Uncharted: Drake's Betrayal
by Harvey2Face
Summary: In the eight years since Iram, Nathan Drake has lived quietly. Having given up treasure hunting, he's started a family with Elena, with no desire to return to his old ways. But despite his best efforts, Nate is forced to question who he can trust, and if he can ever escape his old life.
1. Chapter 1

**I had been wanting to write an Uncharted fan fic since Among Thieves, but I never could come up with a story, or new characters, that I liked until now. I hope you enjoy. I do not own Nathan Drake, or any of the Uncharted characters. That honor goes to Naughty Dog.**

"_This is the part of the job I never missed,"_ Nathan thought as he sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair. _"Years of experience never really help you get used to it, and years away from the job haven't helped my resolve either."_ Nate's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a ring- clad fist making contact with his left cheekbone. As he felt blood dripping down his face, he hoped that there wasn't going to be a permanent imprint of the man's ring on his face.

"_Good luck symbol or not, I do not want a lucky horseshoe imprinted on my temple for the rest of my life,"_ Nate thought, then grunted in pain as he absorbed two more blows to the gut.

Nathan Drake looked around the small, damp room he had awoken in. It reminded him of the Nazi submarine base from when he was looking for El Dorado. It looked like the world's nastiest basement. It smelled like mold and death when he first woke up, but now he couldn't smell anything besides the blood filling his nose.

Two more blows to the face.

As Nate struggled to remain conscious, he pulled against his restraints one more time. It was no good. He wasn't going anywhere. He tried again to look for a way out, in case he managed to get free, but he could barely see the whole room. He looked at the dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, wishing it would do its job better.

Three hits to the chest and arms.

"_And the other dim bulbs filling this room aren't helping at all,"_ he quipped to himself as he looked at the four other men populating the room, including the ugly giant who had been making Nate his favorite punching bag for the past ten minutes.

"Hey guys," Nate managed to say between hits to his face. The giant stopped hitting him, and the three other men lounging behind him took notice.

"Have you guys done this before?" Nate asked with a weak grin, "I don't want to tell you how to do your job," Nate said in a sarcastic voice, "But aren't you supposed to be asking me questions or something?" The only response he got was another right cross to his jaw.

"Oww," Nate groaned, "Seriously? You haven't even said a single word to me! I just woke up to Frankenstein here hitting me in the face."

The giant was about to hit him again when one of the others stopped him.

"Lothar," called one of the men from the back of the room. The man motioned for the giant to step away, and Lothar complied. As the man walked up to him, Nate surveyed who he was dealing with. This man was slightly shorter than Nate was, with a smaller build. The way he moved bothered Nate though. His body language showed signs of being a trained boxer. That didn't bode well for Nate's face.

"Our boss wants to talk to you," the man said in a stern voice. Nate raised an eyebrow, but the man said nothing else. He just removed his glasses and wiped them down before putting them back on.

"Your boss wants to talk to me?" Nate said in a disbelieving voice. The man nodded. "You guys knock me out, drag me to this Godforsaken basement, tie _and_ handcuff me to a chair, then beat the crap out of me because 'Your boss wants to talk to me?'" Nate let out a strained chuckle, "Haven't any of you ever heard of a telephone? I'm in the phone book." The man grinned at Nate's comments. Then after sharing the laugh with him, interrupted the moment with a swift punch to Nate's face.

"_Definitely a boxer,"_ Nate thought as his head rang. He blinked a few times, head hanging low, looking at his blood soaked shirt, before elevating his gaze to match the man looking at him.

"No? No phone calls?" Nate chuckled, "How about Facebook?"

One more punch to the gut.

"Just so you know," Nate grunted," I'm taken."

"What?" asked the man with glasses.

Through heavy breathing, Nate replied," I'm just saying, you seem to be going to a lot of trouble to get me together with someone, so I thought you should know I'm off the market."

Two more hits to the chest, one to the nose.

"Come on," Nate gasped, maintaining his cocky grin, "If someone's that desperate to hook up with me, you could at least tell me their name."

Just as the man was about to punch Nate again, the lights began to flicker, and he heard the sound of a man whistling. As Nate heard the tune, chills went up his spine and his heart raced. His cocky grin vanished. It sounded like a song you'd hear on an ice cream truck or carnival ride, and anywhere else it would have sounded innocent enough. But not here, not if the man whistling was who Nate thought it was.

"_It can't be,"_ Nate thought, the fear welling up in his chest.

The whistling stopped and a shadowy figure passed through the doorway and lit a cigarette. The flickering stopped, the man stepped into the light, and Nate's suspicions were confirmed. The whistling man was just shy of six feet, had a very lean build, and wore a black suit with a white shirt and no tie. His near-black hair probably would have been curly if it wasn't combed back with gel. There was a moment of silence as this man took a long puff of his cigarette. Then he looked down and brushed a small amount of ash off of his shirt collar, which stuck out over his lapels. He took his cigarette in his hand, and then smiled at Nate with a large grin that gave him chills.

"First cigarette of the day, always hits the spot," the man said in an Irish accent, one that had a tone filled with menace. Then he bent down to eye level with Nate, blew smoke in his face, and maintained his creepy smile the whole time. "Hello Nathan," he grinned, his voice taking an edge of mock friendliness.

Nate repressed the nervous feeling building in his stomach. "You could've called me," he said, trying his best to contain his nervousness and anger.

"Those are the first words out of your mouth?" Benjamin Edwards said, feigning hurt feelings, "Not a hello, no 'long time, no see Ben,' nothing?"

"I'm sorry, I'll start again. Please don't blow smoke in my face," Nate replied indignantly, barely containing his upset tone. Ben chuckled, took another puff of his cigarette. Nate looked at Ben in silence for a moment. He couldn't put his finger on what, but something about the man's appearance was unsettling. You didn't even have to talk to him, just look at him. There was just something about _him_ that was somehow unnerving.

"I bet you'd like to kill me, wouldn't you Nathan?" Edwards said in a playful tone. He grinned when Nate remained silent, "Take a shot at me?" he whispered in Nate's ear. "How about it?" he shouted enthusiastically, hopping in front of Nate, bent over, with his hands on his knees like a child. "I let you out of the chair, and you get three go's," Edwards chirped in a sing-song tone.

"Three go's?" Nate asked.

"Come on, I completely understand why you'd want me dead, so I'll give you THREE! Three chances to hurt me, to kill me, TO DO YOUR WORST!" Edwards shouted, "Then," he paused, letting that disturbing grin linger on his face before leaning in to whisper in Nate's ear, "It's my turn."

Nate sat there for a moment as Ben looked at him, staring with his large, soulless black eyes. Normally Nate would have come up with an amusing quip, but even his inner jester seemed too scared to say anything.

"No thanks," Nate said in a defeated tone, his uneasiness showing through on his face.

"I didn't think so," Ben grinned, "That's because you know what I can do, what I've done," he paused for a moment, "You're afraid," he said in a mocking whisper. Then, Nate watched as Ben put out his cigarette in his own palm. Nate felt chills run up his spine as he smelled burning flesh, but what disturbed him most was that not only did it not seem to hurt him, but Ben looked like he actually enjoyed it.

"It's okay," he whispered playfully, flicking the extinguished cigarette butt to the floor, "You should be afraid." Edwards paused a moment, then turned to the men standing behind him. "You gentlemen can leave; I can deal with Mr. Drake. Besides…" he turned his head back to Nate, his grin more malicious than ever, "you won't be any trouble, will you Nathan?" He paused for a few moments as Nate stayed silent, "Didn't think so." He turned back to face his men, who walked out of the room one by one. After they left, Ben moved towards Nate, and released his restraints. Nate hated to admit it, even to himself, but he would rather have stayed tied to the chair and been left with those four thugs than deal with the man who was releasing him. They scared him less.

"You know," he said as the ropes and handcuffs fell to the floor, "I didn't expect them to be _that_ rough on you."

"Really?" Nate asked. He groaned in pain as he stood, aching all over. He made no move to escape, and wouldn't have even if he was one hundred percent. He knew it was a bad idea.

"Yes really," Edwards replied in a mocking voice, "I told them to go get you, and if they _wanted_ to, they could get a few shots in for fun. Didn't expect them to just beat you until I arrived."

"Yeah you did," Nate replied.

"Yeah, okay I did," Ben replied, shrugging his shoulders with a playful, mischievous expression on his face.

Nate stood there nervously. He could never tell if Edwards was joking or not.

"This was plan B though, be glad we didn't go with plan A. Plan A was _my_ idea."

"And what was plan 'A'?" Nate asked.

"You really want to know?"

"Not particularly."

Ben grinned. "_I_ said we should kidnap your lovely wife Elena, and slowly cut pieces off of her until you did exactly what we wanted. We could have controlled you like a puppet on strings."

Nate fumed with anger. "Don't you mean '_unless_ I did exactly what you wanted?'"

"Hmm?"

"You said _until_. Don't you mean _unless_?"

Ben pretended to ponder this for a moment. "Uh, no," he said blatantly. He stared at Nate's angry face for a moment, then with a smile said, "Well there's no question you'd do what we want! So, what? I don't get to have my fun just because you're cooperating?"

"Don't mention her again. And if you ever so much as TOUCH her, I'll KILL you!" Nate shouted, barely able to control himself.

Ben feigned a look of terror, then said playfully: "Those three go's are still yours if you want them." He stared at Nate with eager eyes for a moment, "Thought not. But tell me something."

"What?" Nate asked, still holding in a combination of intense anger and fear.

"Does she taste as good as she looks?" he asked, licking his lips, a devilish, sadistic smile on his face. What was most unnerving about that question was that he couldn't tell if Edwards meant that as a euphemism, or if he was talking about cannibalism. Both ideas caused Nate anger to rise even further.

"Too bad the boss didn't approve of plan 'A'" Ben said, faking a childish sadness.

"Who are you talking about?" Nate asked, but his gut told him he already knew the answer. Then his blood began to boil as a voice confirmed his suspicions.

"Who do you _think_ Nathan?" The new voice said in an articulate drawl. Nate stared in disbelief at the man who walked into the room. Whatever nervousness and fear Nate was feeling was replaced with rage. The man was about to speak again, but Nate had rushed across the room, tackling him to the ground.

"YOU!" Nate yelled in blind rage, "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

He managed to land two punches to the man's face before Edwards had one hand around Nate's throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. Ben held him there a moment, Drake's feet dangling off the ground. He struggled for breath as Ben's hand squeezed his throat. Then Ben slammed him into the wall, holding him in place. Nate's head rang, and he felt warm blood flowing down the back of his head as the room faded. The other man stood up, wiped blood off of his face, and motioned for Edwards to let go. Edwards complied, and Nate slumped to the floor, gasping for air.

"I'm sorry Nathan," the man said, "But like Ben said, we aren't done with you yet," The man chuckled, "But you should've known you hadn't seen the last of us."

Nate gasped for breath, and barely heard the man's words as all of his pain and injuries got the best of him, and he slipped into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope you enjoyed reading the last chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Who Benjamin Edwards is, why Nate was so afraid of him, and the identity of the man Nate attacked, will all be revealed in time. Now, whether or not that scene will end up taking place near the end of this story, or be a set up for a sequel, who knows? I'm not even sure yet. Let's just see how this story goes.**

_Two years prior._

The sea air.

Nate loved running, and he had run along this beach almost every morning for years, but had never asked himself what it was that kept him running here, and not anywhere else. So as he ran, he thought about what made him come back each morning. The truth was, it was the sea air. Hell, the whole environment. He continued to think about it as he increased his pace, about how the sand felt beneath his feet, how the sun felt on his skin, the sound of the ocean waves, and just how much he loved having the gorgeous scenery around him as he ran. It was like something off of a postcard. He looked around at everything as he passed it by at a quick speed. Who wouldn't take this over some suburb any day? Nate smiled as he noticed several young women eyeing him as he ran past.

"Still got it," he thought happily. The fact that he was shirtless probably helped, but Nate liked to say it was just a natural charm he exuded. Whatever it was, Nate didn't really care. He knew it didn't matter. There was someone much better waiting for him at home. As if to remind him, the sunlight glinted off of the silver band on his left ring finger. So he just kept running, and kept enjoying his sand, his scenery, and his sea air.

A short time later, Nate stopped where he had left his backpack, and as he bent over to catch his breath, he looked at the sports watch on his wrist. He smiled when he realized he had finished his run slightly faster than last week.

"Not bad," he thought as he pulled his shirt on and took a drink from the water bottle in his bag. "Not bad at all." Then he picked up his bag and walked away.

Meanwhile, Elena sat on a barstool, her tiny frame resting sleepily on the granite kitchen counter, smiling as the smell of the coffee pot reached her nose. She sat up as the pot dinged to alert her that it was done, wearily shuffled across the white tile kitchen floor, and poured herself a mug. She reached up into the cupboard, and pulled her favorite creamer off of the top shelf. She had to stand on her tiptoes just to get it.

"I swear Nate puts it up here on purpose," she thought.

After she fixed her coffee, she went and sat down on the living room couch. She loved mornings like this. It was beautiful outside, the sun lit the inside of the house perfectly, and everything was quiet. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and listened to the distant sound of the ocean, to the wind chimes on the porch, and the seagulls off in the distance. She savored these mornings, enjoying the peaceful stillness, because she knew it wouldn't last. She looked at the end table next to the couch, and smiled warmly at the pictures adorning it. The first was one of her and Nate, from the first time they dated. They had gone on a trip together to Egypt. The photo had been taken during their cruise down the Nile. She had wanted to go on the nicest cruise ship, where they could've had a beautiful cabin with a private terrace to gaze out at the river. But Nate booked their trip on a restored 19th century wooden sailboat, or as Nate called it, a _dahabeah_. Despite her frustration with him, Nate remained ecstatic and defensive about his choice. He said it would be a much more authentic experience, get them closer to the local culture and history.

"Hard to believe that was twelve years ago," she thought.

The next photo was of the two of them on their honeymoon, sitting on a beach in Ko Phi Phi, Thailand. Elena remembered the little bungalow they stayed in, how romantic it was. Until she figured out that Nate had picked Thailand because of some treasure he thought was hidden there. She unconsciously touched her stomach as she looked at herself in the photo, sitting there in that two piece bathing suit. She was still amazed by how well she had healed from the grenade blast in Tibet.

But the last photo was one of her favorites. It was taken about eight years ago, with her and Nate sitting together at a dinner table with Victor Sullivan, Chloe Frazer, and Charlie Cutter. She remembered the night vividly. It seemed like everyone had an announcement to make during that dinner in London. Sully said that he had bought an antique shop in Miami, and planned to spend the foreseeable future making a legitimate living there. So far, at least to Elena's knowledge, he had stuck to that idea. It wasn't much later in the night that Chloe and Cutter announced they were dating. As much as it surprised Elena at the time, the idea of Chloe going steady with anyone, if someone had said they would still be together years later, she would have called that person crazy.

"Hell," Elena thought, "Chloe probably would've called them crazy too."

But that wasn't her favorite moment that night. She glowed as she remembered the way she felt that night when Nate said that he was retiring from treasure hunting. She had asked him if that was what he really wanted, how she wasn't sure if she wanted him to give up his life as a treasure hunter for her.

"Elena," he said, smiling that smile she loved, "I took me too long to realize, but being with you is more important than any of that. I would give my life for you." Then, with a cocky smile, he added, "So I think, by comparison, giving up my life's _work_ should be fairly easy." The two embraced in the warmest hug either of them had ever had, and as Elena savored the moment, Drake whispered in her ear, "I'm just sorry it took me this long to figure it out."

And Nate had kept to his promise. In the eight years since that night, he never ran off on another adventure, or taken any other forms of dangerous or criminal employment. Shortly after that night, they bought a house in Miami near the beach. Elena told him they could get a bigger house, but Nate refused to get a house that he wasn't able to pay half the cost of. He didn't care how well Elena had invested her cut of the gold from El Dorado compared to his frivolous spending. But, because of their opposing financial habits, they agreed that Elena would handle their budget.

There were points in their relationship where Elena got the feeling that he missed his old life, if only slightly. There was no doubt he still loved to travel, and he still had a great love of history. But he never seemed unhappy, he made no attempts to go back to his old life, and after recent events, any signs of him missing his old job were gone.

Elena's reminiscing was cut short as she heard footsteps outside. She sat down her coffee mug, and made her way to the front door, the sunny areas on the hardwood floor warm against her bare feet. Picking up a one of his books off the floor as she went, she stepped into the entryway just as the door opened and Nate walked through in a navy blue shirt and khaki shorts. He smiled broadly when he saw her, that big, goofy smile of his, and she smiled back at him.

"Good morning Mrs. Drake," Nate said, stepping towards Elena, his grin turning sly as he noticed she was wearing nothing but one of his shirts, which hung half way down her thigh. Elena felt herself blush as she saw Nate's eyes adore her bare legs, and wander upward with a mischievious look to where they disappeared beneath his shirt.

"Good morning Mr. Drake," she replied with a chuckle. "I hate to disappoint you, but I am wearing something under this shirt."

"Damn," Nate said with a smile. He moved in for a hug, but Elena backed up. After seeing the sad expression on Nate's face, she said, "Maybe after you shower, you're a sweaty mess."

Nate nodded in understanding, "You know, you should come with me more often, I'd love the company."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she asked in a playfully indignant tone.

"Whoa, whoa, no," Nate replied, raising his hands in the air like he was surrendering. "I'm not falling for that. Don't go twisting my words like that."

"You know," Elena replied, "Most guys would instantly rush to reassure their love that she was just as beautiful as ever,' as lovely as they day they met', all that stuff."

Nate chuckled lightly, taking Elena's hands in his. "You are," Nate paused, looking for the right words, "The most beautiful woman I've ever known. I know you've been feeling self-conscious about your appearance recently, and I understand why, but you look amazing," Nate smiled as he looked into her eyes, and kissed her.

"Thank you," Elena replied quietly as their lips separated. Nate began to head for the bathroom, and Elena smiled coyly before speaking again, "Besides," she paused, and Nate turned back, looking at her expectantly, "I seem to recall you being jealous of how many guys were staring at me on that beach."

Nate chuckled as he walked into the bathroom. "Me, jealous? Nahh! How could a guy like me be jealous of anything out there? I thought that you were the jealous one!"

The only reply he received was a laugh from the other room.

"What?" Nate asked, feigning hurt feelings, "You don't think I can get lingering eyes too?"

Elena suppressed a laugh before she responded, "No, I just find it funny that you think _I'm_ jealous. After all, you're the one who came crawling back to me! Twice!"

"Ouch," Nate thought to himself, "She has a point." Of course, he'd never admit that, so he came up with the one reply he could.

"I can't heeeaarrr you!" he childishly replied, "The shower's too loud!"

Elena couldn't help but laugh at how goofy Nate could be. Sometimes she loved that about him, sometimes it drove her crazy.

"Hey!" Nate playfully shouted over the water, "Why don't you come join me in here?"

Elena actually considered it for a moment, a playful grin dancing across her face. But before she could respond, the peace and stillness she enjoyed was interrupted by crying from the other room.

"Damn it," she mumbled, the shouted to Nate, "The baby's up!"

**I knew I wanted Nate and Elena to have a kid, but it took me forever to decide how to reveal it. After I decided it would be the end point of the chapter, I had the difficulty of avoiding the subject the rest of the time, leaving clues and hinting at it, but waiting until the end to actually reveal it. **

** The next chapter or so will probably be a similar pace to this, to set up the characters and the story. But the pace will pick up, I just don't want to rush it. That's the main reason I opened the story the way I did. And please, please, please review. This is my first serious attempt to write anything, so I'd love all the constructive criticism I can get.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I actually got the idea for Nate and Elena's trips to Thailand and Egypt from **_**1000 Places to See Before You Die**_**. As far as the story goes, the next few chapters may be a little slow; the story I want to tell has a lot to set up. But I promise that it will pick up and feel more like an **_**Uncharted**_** adventure! Hopefully tough, if I tell it right, it won't be a typical adventure! **

Nate looked deeply into Elena's eyes, those beautiful brown doe eyes of hers. God, he couldn't think of any moment that he loved her more than he did right now. He had promised himself he wouldn't cry. But as the wedding continued, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep that promise.

It was a small service, held in a local church, with only close friends and family in attendance. Sully was best man of course, and Elena had an old friend from college as her maid of honor. Elena's whole family had flown in from Colorado, and they greatly outnumbered the few friends that Nate invited. But Nate didn't mind, he was happy Elena had a loving family. He never knew what that was like, but the fact that it made this day so much better for her was enough for him. The few guests that were there for him were some of his closest friends. Charlie Cutter actually flew in from London, though he made wisecracks the entire time about wanting to be reimbursed for the flight. There was also David Reese, a reformed con man from Kentucky, who Nate had been friends with ever since Reese saved his ass in a bar fight eight years before. Next to him was Gabriel Finch, an archaeologist who Nate befriended in college. Nate had dropped out after a year, but the two of them had kept in touch. What was more surprising to Nate than the fact that Chloe Frazer even managed to make it, was that it was Elena's idea for her to come. Nate had avoided the subject, unsure about what old issues it would stir up. But Elena seemed happy to invite her.

Nate recited his vows, barely noticing how uncomfortable his tuxedo was. He just stared at the lovely blonde standing in front of him, and as far as he cared, nothing else in the world existed. Just the two of them, together. Elena started to tear up as he slipped the silver band on her finger.

Shortly afterward, Nate held Elena's hand tightly as they ran for their car. They ducked as everyone threw rice, cheering for the new couple. As he ducked his head down, he made eye contact with Elena, sharing the moment of joy. But as he opened the door to the car, his heart skipped a beat, and all of his joy was replaced with terror. What was looking back at him from the back seat of the car was impossible.

Sitting in the back seat was a bloody Harry Flynn.

Nate shuddered as he heard the words come from Harry's mouth. "Parting gift from Lazaravic," he said, "Pity he took the pin." Nate filled with panic as Flynn dropped a grenade. The world seemed to go silent as it rolled between their feet, and before he could move, they were both engulfed in the explosion.

But Nate's eyes opened, and he had to squint at the blinding white light that assaulted him. But as his eyes adjusted, he realized he had no idea where he was. He was lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling of an unknown room. He blinked a few times, and then he screamed for Elena, but no sound came from his mouth. He paused in confusion, and then tried to sit up, but none of his muscles responded. He tried to turn his head, but he couldn't budge. His entire body was completely limp. He laid there helpless for a moment, only able to move his face and eyes. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he heard footsteps. He hoped it was help, but then he heard a disembodied voice that struck fear into him.

"You think I am a monster," the Serbian voice said, "But you're no different from me Drake." Nate laid there in terror as Zoran Lazaravic stepped up and stood over him.

"How many men have you killed?" Zoran asked, "How many, just today?"

Nate tried to respond, but he was still only capable of silence.

Lazaravic smiled a look of pity, and then crouched down next to Nate. "Don't bother Drake," he continued, "You can speak when you have the will."

Then Lazaravic grabbed Nate by the hair, and pulled him up into a sitting position. Despite the pain of being lifted by his hair, Nate couldn't move a muscle, and Lazaravic had to put a hand behind Nate's back to prop him up. Nate never felt so helpless before. Lazaravic grabbed him by the jaw, and turned his head so they were face to face.

"So, do you even know how many people you've killed? You claim to be a better man than me, but you continuously put yourself in situations where you had to kill. You could've walked away when you realized what your work often entailed. But you didn't. You kept coming back for more. You enjoyed it,"

Nate tried to tell him he was wrong, but all he could manage was a look of protest on his face. Zoran smiled that same pitying look. "You don't need to say it Drake. You think I'm wrong. You think you only ever did what had to be done. But on top of it all, you put everyone you claimed to care about in mortal danger on a regular basis. So tell me, who's the real monster?"

He stared at Nate with an evil grin, knowing Nate couldn't respond. "You're just as big of a monster as me, Mr. Drake. And now you suffer for it."

He turned Nate's head to face front, and Nate looked on in horror. Sully, Elena, Charlie, and Chloe were on their knees, tied up in front of him. Nate's breathing became ragged as his adrenaline surged, wishing he could do something. Standing behind them were Talbot, Katherine Marlowe, Eddy Raja, and Ramses.

"I told you no one messes with me _bule_!" Eddy said, and then Nate watched in helpless terror as he pulled out his golden pistol, and shot Charlie in the head. Marlowe was next, stabbing Chloe through the chest.

Nate fought with all of his will to move, to speak, to be able to do something. But he was forced to watch motionless, a look of sheer terror on his face, wishing he could go in their place, but to no avail. Talbot picked up a rifle, and with that sick grin on his face, shot Sully in the back.

Nate was frozen in terror, staring at the dead bodies in front of him, their blood splattered on him. He heard Lazaravic laughing next to him.

"See you in hell, habibi," Ramses said, pulling out his pistole. As he aimed at Elena's head, Nate finally found his voice.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he yelled, his voice broken, full of pain and anger, still unable to move. "Please, just kill me, kill me instead."

Lazaravic smiled, and looked Nate in the eye. "We're about to." He taunted.

Nate made eye contact with Elena, who was shaking in fear, tears running down her face. They maintained eye contact, their last moment together.

Nate cringed as Ramses pulled the trigger, and his stomach wrenched as Elena's blood splattered onto his face.

"ELENA!" Nate shouted, screaming and leaping upright in a panic. Drenched in sweat, Nate looked around frantically, feeling the worst rush of pure terror he had ever felt in his life. As his adrenaline pumped, and the blood rushed in his ears, he barely heard the female voice struggling to get his attention.

"NATE, Nate! It's- Nate it's alright, It's Ok," Elena said, trying desperately to calm Nate down. He was completely incoherent for a moment, panic written all over his face. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he turned to face her, but he still had panic in his eyes. She cupped his face in her hands, and though his breathing was still ragged, Nate slowly calmed down.

"It's OK, Nate, I'm here," she said, "I'm here, you're OK, it was a dream."

She looked at him, tears staining his face, his breath ragged. After a moment, he finally seemed to realize where he was, that she was real. He started to cry as he rested his head on her shoulder. She embraced him, and they held each other tight as he sobbed. Tears filled Elena's eyes as she held him. Most people never saw this side of Nate, the part of him that was haunted by his past. It was painful for Elena too. She loved him, and seeing him tortured like this broke her heart.

"Oh god," Nate mumbled between sobs, "You were… you were… he…"

"It was a dream, I'm here now. It wasn't real," Elena reassured him, guiding Nate back down into bed, tears silently flowing down her cheeks.

Nate trembled, and elevated his gaze, looking her in the eye. Feeling powerless to help him, Elena did the only thing she could do. She kissed him, which quickly became a passionate, all-consuming kiss. Before she knew it, Nate had her in the most loving_, I need you, to hold you, to know you're real and alive_ embrace he ever had before. He embraced her, felt every inch of her, wanting and needing her more than he ever needed anyone else in his life. He passionately kissed her, and when he slipped off her pajama pants, she didn't say a word. She knew she didn't need to. She just followed his lead.

When it was over, Nate laid on his back, running his fingers though Elena's hair as she rested her head on his chest, her arm draped across his stomach. She smiled as she gazed deeply into his eyes. She loved those blue eyes of his. As he looked lovingly into her eyes, he seriously doubted he would've made it this long without her. She listened to his breathing, felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, and shivered as his hands ran up her bare torso, stroking every inch of her. Nate smiled, and gave Elena a quick kiss. But despite his improved mood, she could tell he was still troubled. His eyes looked distant. So she had to ask the tough question.

"What was it this time?" she asked, and felt guilty as she saw him visibly sadden.

"It wasn't any one dream in particular," he replied, his voice tired and weak. "It all seemed to happen at once. All of my nightmares, all happening at the same time."

"Want to talk about it?" she asked, holding him tighter.

"No, not really," Nate said blankly.

"Nate," Elena said in a stubborn tone, "You _need_ to talk about it."

Nate sighed, and tried to turn away, but stopped when he saw the look in Elena's eyes, and relented. He described his whole dream to her, all of its detail. She listened attentively to every word. As he told her about every terrible part of his dream, she held him tighter, wishing she could do more to help him.

"You're not a bad person Nate," Elena reassured him when he was done, "You did what you had to do to survive,"

"But I kept going back for more," Nate said, tears returning to his eyes, "I knew the stakes, I knew what was likely to happen, but I still jumped into all those jobs whole heartedly. I could've just walked away."

Elena gazed reassuringly into his eyes, "You have walked away Nate," she replied, "You left it all behind. And you never took any of those jobs because you wanted to kill people."

"But I had no right to put any of you in danger."

"Nate," Elena said seriously, "None of us would ever have gone with you if we didn't want to. You didn't force us into anything." She watched his face, and could tell he doubted what she was saying. "We came with you of our own free will. And we all have to take responsibility for the consequences of our own actions Nate. Whatever danger that Sully, myself, or anyone else you know got into is not your fault. We wanted to help you. We _chose_ to help you"

He stared at her blankly for a moment, and then smiled weakly. "I guess you're right," he relented.

"Damn right I am," Elena quipped. Nate chuckled, and hugged her tighter as she closed her eyes. Nate took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, Elena's warm, bare skin relaxing him. But right as he was about to fall back asleep, he heard crying over the baby monitor.

Elena started to get up, but Nate stopped her. "I'll take care her," he said, a reassuring smile on his face. She smiled, but then stared at him quizzically as his eyes darted around the room, a look of confusion on his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

Then, his tone completely serious, he replied, "Have you seen my pants?"

Elena laughed, and looked around with him. Then she picked up his pants off the floor on her side of the bed, still chuckling at his expense, and handed them to him.

A moment later, Nate walked into the baby's room, tying the string on his pajama pants as he went. He could hear the baby wailing. He looked down into the crib, and smiled as he delicately lifted his daughter up onto his shoulder, patting her lightly as he gently rocked back and forth.

"Hey Juliet, what's wrong?" he asked as he checked her diaper. The baby just continued to cry, but the question answered itself as a foul smell reached his nose. He sighed; half tempted to ask Elena if she would take care of it for him. But he decided against it, and took a deep breath before placing Juliet on the changing table.

Shortly afterward, Nate walked into the living room, baby on his shoulder. Unfortunately, Juliet didn't want to be cooperative about going back to bed. So he sat down on the couch, and began rocking her in his arms, hoping to lull her back to sleep. Held her head delicately, and stared lovingly into her green eyes, but she just wailed in distress. As she continued to cry, Nate prepared a bottle of formula for her. He sat back down, holding Juliet in one arm, cradling her close, because as far as Nate cared, she was the most precious treasure he had ever handled.

"It's okay Juliet," Nate whispered as he held the bottle in his free hand. "It's alright, daddy's here." He paused after he finished his sentence. He still wasn't entirely used to it, the idea of being a dad. But he knew he wouldn't trade it for anything.

After calmly feeding her, Nate placed Juliet in her cradle in front of him. Juliet began to fall asleep, but much to Nate's dismay, he found himself restless. So he walked over to the bookshelf, and pulled down one of his favorites, a worn hardback copy of _The Complete Sherlock Holmes_. He flipped the book open, and sat down on the couch, rocking Juliet's cradle with one foot.

"It is with a heavy heart," Nate read aloud, "That I take up my pen to write these, the last words in which I shall ever record the singular gifts by which my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes was distinguished."

He continued to read as he rocked Juliet's cradle. He paused, and looked away from his book to see Juliet fast asleep and peaceful. So he kept reading, and hoped rest would visit him eventually.

**I love Sherlock Holmes, I don't know about you. I actually just got a very nice hardback edition of **_**The Complete Sherlock Holmes**_** for Christmas. But on to the story. I had a lot of difficulty with the dream sequence. I wanted to do something a little different than what had been done in other stories, and went through about four versions of it before I found one I liked. Once I figured it out though, it was a lot of fun. Another sticking point was finding a baby name I liked. I thought for a moment about naming her Emily (tee hee, inside jokes) but decided against it. The boy name I had thought of was Henry (surprisingly, not a reference to Indiana Jones, but to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, another favorite of mine). I hate to repeat myself, but please, please, give me constructive criticism! I want this story to be as good as possible.**

**Lastly, in case you were wondering, the Holmes story Nate is reading is **_**The Final Problem**_**, the story where Holmes battles wits with James Moriarty. Coincidence?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. Like I said, this is my first serious attempt to write anything, so I love the support, and I'm glad to know my story's being read and enjoyed.**

Elena blinked drowsily at a lone beam of sunlight hit her face. She smiled as she raised her head from the pillow, gazing out at the beautiful weather outside. Taking a deep breath, she reached behind herself, but her smile disappeared when she only touched air. She rolled over to look, and sighed when she saw that Nate's side of the bed was empty.

"Nate?" she called out. She stared out the bedroom door expectantly, but there was no reply.

After waiting for a moment longer, Elena wrapped her bed sheet around herself, got up, and walked out of the bedroom. She shuffled slowly down the hall, holding the sheet in place as she went. She stopped in the baby's room, and she felt her heart warm as she passed through the door, feeling the love only a mother could understand.

"Good morning Juliet," Elena said groggily as the stepped up to the crib.

But a rush of uneasiness washed over her as she saw the crib empty. Repressing the anxious feeling, if only momentarily, Elena stepped out of the nursery, making her way down the hall and into the living room. A rush of relief washed over her, and she had to repress a chuckle at what she saw. She rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face, as she walked over to the cradle sitting next to the couch. Juliet was doing her best to stand, leaning against one side of the cradle as she reached out, her tiny hand tugging at the pants leg of an unconscious Nate. After a few moments, Juliet lost her balance, fell back into the cradle, and sat there with a look of confusion on her face as she stared at her unkempt father, who didn't even stir. Elena chuckled, which got Juliet's attention. Her face lit up at the sight of her mother, and she started to giggle as she stretched her little arms out towards Elena. Elena did her best to secure the bed sheet she had draped around herself, and lifted Juliet up into her arms.

"Good morning angel," Elena said happily as she looked into her eyes. Juliet stared back with a combination of happiness and curiosity.

Elena tickled Juliet's stomach, and felt her heart flutter as the baby laughed. She loved the sound of a baby's laughter. After gazing into Juliet's eyes a moment longer, she shifted her attention to the mess spread out on the couch. Shifting the baby onto her shoulder, she stood over Nate, an amused expression on her face. She looked at the book that was spread open across his chest, how it rose and fell with his breathing. She looked at him with a loving smile, and then wiped a small line of drool from his chin before placing his book back on the shelf. He grunted in his sleep, but didn't wake up.

"Until next time Mr. Holmes," Elena said as she slipped the old hardback into its rightful place. She walked back over to Nate's side, and laughed quietly as Juliet gurgled, reaching out eagerly for her father. Elena sat down next to Nate, and Juliet reached out, placing a tiny hand on his shoulder, confused by Nate's unresponsiveness.

"What's wrong with daddy?" Elena asked in a playful whisper, watching with amusement as Juliet tried to push on Nate's arm. As much as she wanted to wake him, Elena was glad to see him sleeping so peacefully. He looked like a stressed out mess, and she knew he needed the sleep. So she sat in the peaceful silence, bouncing Juliet on her knee. Then Nate started to stir.

"Reichenbach," he mumbled incoherently, still mostly asleep. Elena stared at him quizzically for a second before she realized what it meant. After a few more moments, his muddled brain seemed to gather its thoughts. "What time is it?" he groaned quietly.

"Almost nine."

Elena looked at him lovingly as he stirred, blinking his eyes open, and as he looked at Elena through bleary eyes, a weary smile stretched across his face.

"Someone wanted to see you," Elena said happily as Nate noticed Juliet staring at him. The moment he saw her, his eyes filled with life, and took his daughter into his arms.

"Hey Juliet!" Nate exclaimed, "How are you sweet heart?"

Elena watched contentedly as Nate played with her, lifting her into the air and then bringing her back down to give her raspberries on her stomach, all of which made Juliet laugh endlessly. As Nate kept himself occupied, Elena walked into the kitchen, smiling inwardly as she heard Nate making baby talk. She got the coffee pot ready, and as it gurgled, she sat closely to Nate, wrapping her arms around him.

"Morning sleepy head," Elena said, "So how long did she keep you up?"

"Not long," Nate replied as he bounced Juliet on his leg, "I changed her, but she was still upset, so I fed her, and then rocked her in the cradle as I read."

"How'd she like your choice of stories?" Elena joked.

"She thought the ending was sad," Nate quipped, "But I reassured her that everything turned out alright."

"Yeah, I don't know if a story that ends with the hero falling from a waterfall to his death is appropriate for an eleven month old," Elena replied with sarcastic amusement.

"Hey, Sherlock Holmes is appropriate for everybody!" Nate said defensively, "Besides, it turned out he _faked_ his death after defeating Moriarty to save his friends!"

Elena paused for a moment, and laughed as she thought about what they were arguing about. Then she sat in silence for a moment, looking into Nate's eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair. She frowned as she looked at the bags under his eyes.

"So when did you finally get to sleep?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know exactly," Nate replied quietly, "After I calmed Juliet back to sleep, I just felt restless."

"Was it the dreams?"

Nate frowned. "No, I just couldn't sleep."

Elena stared at him for a moment, uncertain of how truthful he was being. Juliet stared curiously up at her parents, confused by the sudden silence. Then Elena smiled, satisfied that he was telling the truth, and gave him a quick kiss.

"You should go clean up, you're a mess," she whispered as her lips parted from his.

"Gee, thanks mom," Nate replied in a childish voice, handing Juliet over to her mother. Standing up slowly, Nate stretched, and walked stiffly over to the bathroom.

"I feel like sh-," Nate started to say, but caught himself when he remembered whose company he was in, "Like I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night," he continued, correcting himself. "And like Charlie head-butted me again."

Elena let out a frustrated sigh, "That's because you don't use your reading glasses!" she gave him a look of loving irritation, then continued, "I keep telling you!"

Nate sighed. "I keep losing them!" he explained, "I hate wearing those things anyway."

"You're going to hurt your eyes," Elena replied. She stared at him for a second, realizing she wasn't getting through to him. "Besides," she continued, her voice taking on a flirtatious tone, "I thought they looked really good on you."

"Oh really?" Nate asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Elena replied, giving him a teasing kiss, "They make you look sophisticated."

"Sophisticated?" Nate chuckled, "They make me _feel_ old."

"Nate, you need to wear them!"

"Okay, okay," Nate sighed as he walked into the bathroom.

Nate turned on the tap and splashed water on his face from the bathroom sink, trying to wake himself up. Taking a deep breath, he examined himself in the mirror.

"Don't worry, you still look great," Elena said, startling him. Elena chuckled as Nate looked at her in the mirror, a mix of surprise and frustration on his face. He turned to face her, a hint of a smile on his face.

"What do you mean '_still'_?" Nate asked in an amused tone.

"Well you aren't getting any younger," Elena joked as she held Juliet close.

Nate rolled his eyes, "Thank you," he replied sarcastically, "I'm so glad you're here."

Elena chuckled, and then gave Nate a kiss on the cheek. Then, as she walked out of the room she called out, "You need to shave."

Nate smirked, and turned back to the mirror. He hated to admit it, but she was right. He wasn't getting any younger. He thought back to how he looked when they first got married, and frowned as he looked at himself in the mirror. Several grey hairs salted his five o'clock shadow, and a few more were visible scattered through his hair. As he continued to ponder the signs of his middle age, he was thankful that he hadn't put on any weight. As far as he could tell, he had actually leaned down. Nate paused for a moment, and sighed as he turned on the shower.

Nate walked into the hallway a short time later, tucking the right side of his shirt into his jeans as he moved. Stepping into the bedroom, he stopped next to his bedside table, strapping his leather cuff watch to his wrist. He picked up the silver ring that was sitting next to it, and slipped it on his left hand as he headed to the living room. He smiled when he saw Elena playing a game of peek-a-boo with Juliet. The two of them looked so happy; Nate just leaned against the door way, a feeling of pride flowing over him as he watched them silently.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Nate announced a few seconds later, "I'm having lunch with Gabe."

"Gabe Finch?" Elena asked, "Is he helping you with school?"

"Yeah, I've got finals coming up soon, he's helping me study," Nate said as he placed textbooks on history and archaeology into a backpack.

"Just like old times, huh?"

"Not quite," Nate said, giving Juliet a kiss on the forehead, which made her giggle with joy. "_He's_ not going to college for the _second_ time."

Nate hugged Elena, and gave her a quick kiss before slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll see you this afternoon," he said, and walked toward the front door.

"Nate," Elena called out, halting him in his tracks. Nate backtracked, leaning his head back into the living room.

"What?" he asked, and then sighed when he saw Elena's outstretched hand holding a rectangular pair of wire frame glasses. "Thanks," he exhaled, taking the glasses from her hand. He turned back to the door, hooking the glasses to his shirt before walking out.

Fifteen minutes later, Nate parked his jeep in front of one of his favorite hole-in-the-wall coffee shops. As he stepped out onto the curb, he saw his friend sitting at a table right inside. He walked in the door of the shop, and Gabriel Finch stood up to greet him, a warm smile on his face. Finch stood several inches shorter than Nate, with a slightly pudgy build, his brown hair combed back and parted on one side. He was dressed in slacks and a casual button-down shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with a set of almost perfectly circular glasses accentuating his large, round eyes.

"Hello Nate," Gabe said as they embraced in a brotherly hug.

"Good afternoon _Professor_ Finch," Nate replied in a half mocking tone as they sat down.

Gabe chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Nate," he said in his usual clear, but soft spoken tone, "It's _Sunday_, so I think _Gabe_ will suffice. Besides, as long as we've known each other, I'm surprised you even address me properly on campus."

"Hey, I'm a very respectful person!" Nate responded, a look of false accusation on his face. Gabriel smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Sometimes," Nate admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

The two friends shared a laugh for a moment before Gabe spoke. "You know, I don't think you really need study help. You're one of the best students in my class." Nate chuckled, but didn't say anything. "No, I'm serious Nate. Your knowledge of history is, well, astounding."

"Yeah, I'm not laughing about that," Nate replied, "It's just that it's still feels strange sometimes, thinking of myself as one of your students. I remember twenty two years ago, back when we were students _together_."

"Yes, and we were studying for finals together _then_ too," Finch replied. He paused for a moment, a thoughtful glint in his hazel eyes, and then continued, "Now that I think about it, I never asked you why you left."

"It's a long story," Nate replied, "Did you ever meet my friend Sully?"

"Victor Sullivan?" Gabe asked, "I met him once, I think. You've told me a lot about him though. You met when you were fourteen right?"

"Yeah, back in Colombia," Nate said, "Well, a few weeks after freshman year ended, I got a call from Sully. He was down in Panama, told me he was onto something big, and that he wanted my help. So I flew down and joined him."

"The old team reunited," Gabe interjected, a smile on his face, "Just like old times, huh?"

Nate paused, and then a smile spread across his face.

"What?" Gabe asked.

"Nothing," Nate said, "You're the second person to say that to me today. Elena said the same thing about you and me this morning."

Gabe chuckled. "So what where you saying about Sully and Panama?"

Nate took a deep breath, "Well, as usual, things went to shit, people tried to kill us, and before I knew what happened, the two of us were stuck in a Panamanian jail together."

Gabe stared at Nate in disbelief, unable to think of a response.

"We managed to get out about six months later, and I wanted to go back to school, I honestly did. But one thing led to another, I did more jobs with Sully, we kept travelling the world, and I never got around to going back. I just got hooked."

"The glorious life of an outlaw treasure hunter," Gabe commented with a sarcastic undertone, "The appeal is understandable._ I_ couldn't live that way, and I wouldn't really want to, but I can understand. The excitement, the adventure, the thrill…"

"The money?" Nate interrupted.

Gabe smirked. "I don't think it was ever about the money Nate. The money may have been part of it, you may have done work for hire, but I know you Nate. For you, it was never _about_ the money."

Nate nodded. "Whatever the case was, I'm just glad I'm away from all that now."

After a few moments, Gabe spoke. "So, you want to get started?"

"Sure," Nate responded, pulling one of his textbooks out of his bag. "But first, I need a coffee. I only got a couple hours of sleep last night."

Nate bought a strong black coffee, and put on his reading glasses as he sat back down with Gabe. Flipping the textbook open on the table, they spent the next hour going over what would be on the final.

When they had finished studying, the two friends stepped outside of the café, and were about to part ways when Gabe stopped.

"Hey Nate," he said, and Nate turned to face him, "I'm going to a dig down in Brazil this summer, you're welcome to come if you want."

"How big of a dig is it?" Nate replied.

"It's a mid-size dig," Gabriel continued, "I've arranged the trip so that I can bring some of my more dedicated students down with me, get them some field experience."

Nate hesitated. "I don't know. I don't think I can."

"Nate, you're one of my best students," Gabe encouraged, "This would be great for you."

"I've got to be here for my family," Nate explained, "Elena's still working as a journalist full time, and she still gets sent to cover international stories on occasion. I've got to say here to take care of my daughter."

Gabe stayed silent, thinking for a moment. "You can bring them with you if you want," he responded. Nate snorted, repressing a disbelieving chuckle, "No, I'm serious. Several of the staff at the dig will be bringing their families with them. There's a daycare that's been contracted there if you want to use it, or your family could treat it like a vacation."

"I'm just not sure; I'd have to talk to Elena," Nate sighed, pondering the idea. "Hey," he continued, "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know," Gabe replied, "I'd hate to be a bother."

"No, it's no problem. You can meet Juliet, and can talk with Elena about this dig together."

Gabe hesitated, but eventually relented. "Sure, you've told me so much about your little girl, and I haven't seen Elena in years, I'd love to come over."

"Alright, great," Nate said, "I live at 1635 Palm Terrace; you can come by at around six."

"Sounds good, I'll see you there."

After shaking hands, they said their goodbyes, and parted ways. Nate just hoped Elena wouldn't kill him for inviting a dinner guest on such short notice without asking her first.

**I would actually be surprised if that was a real address in Miami. I really don't know, I just made it up. Sounds like something that would exist there though. And don't worry about Nate, I gave him signs of middle age, I'm not making him old. He'll still be the same Nate as always when the shit hits the fan. But eight years does have an effect, and I wanted to integrate that into the story. Their fight over Nate not wearing his glasses was actually a last minute addition. I added it in because I forgot to write it in when Nate was reading in the previous chapter! I always thought Nate might have gone to college at some point but never finished, so I thought I'd include it into my story. I actually made his story about why he never finished as an explanation for his "**_**you've obviously never been in a Panamanian jail**_**" line in Drake's Fortune. I'm not sure if I want to actually write the dinner with the Drake family and Gabriel Finch. I'm just afraid it could be redundant. But if you'd like to see it, I'll write it in, just let me know.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, had to take a breather for a few days! I'd been spending all of my time writing this story, and I wanted to take a break, step back, and make sure I wasn't losing track of my overall plot. Yes, I have an overall plot. I've got beginning, middle, and end; I just need to elaborate greatly on what happens in between. Oh, and 100 points to the first person who can tell me what Nate was referring to when he mumbled "Reichenbach" in his sleep. (The points are like on **_**Whose Line**_**, they're made up and they don't matter, I just thought it'd be fun to say.)**

Elena sighed as she was interrupted by the doorbell. She shot Nate an upset look, which he deflected with his usual "Don't hurt me, I'm innocent" face.

"Put Juliet in her high chair," Elena commanded, walking out of the room.

"_I'll kill him later," _she thought as she made her way to the front door.

Elena looked through the peep hole on the door, and took a deep breath, putting a smile on her face as she opened the door.

"Hi, come on in!" Elena said, her voice changing to a kind, gentle tone.

"Good evening," Gabriel replied softly as he stepped inside, a polite smile on his face, "It's great to see you again Elena, it's been too long." Elena felt her anger towards Nate soften at his friend's disarming politeness. "Thank you for having me, I hope it's not a problem."

"No, it's no trouble. It's great to have you here." Elena said, recalling the fight she and Nate had had just a short time before.

"_How many times Nate, how many times?" _Elena had asked earlier that evening.

"_I'm sorry Elena," _Nate had replied, _"I didn't think it would be a problem!"_

"_Yeah, you didn't think! I was already getting ready to make dinner for us, and then you spring this on me!"_

"_He's my friend Elena, I thought it would-"_

"_It would've been alright, if you had told me earlier! I didn't have enough food to accommodate a guest! I'd love to have Gabe over he seemed like a great guy, but please, PLEASE, give me some notice!"_

"_I'm sorry, I just-"_

"_Next time you want to invite a spur of the moment guest, I'm not making a last minute trip to the store!"_

"I brought macaroni casserole, I hope you like it," Gabe said, holding up the foil wrapped dish, snapping Elena out of her flashback. "I figured it would be rude not to bring anything."

"Oh, thank you," Elena replied, "You didn't have to…"

"I wanted to," Gabe interrupted, "It's the least I could do, coming on such short notice."

Elena guided Gabe through the living room, and they made their way through the kitchen to the dining room table.

"You can set that with the rest of the food," Elena said, pointing to the kitchen counter. Gabe complied, setting the casserole next to the other dishes that had been made. Nate finished securing Juliet in her high chair, and walked around the table to greet his friend.

"Hey Gabe, glad you could make it!" he said enthusiastically as he hugged him, but frowned when he saw the upset look Elena gave him behind Gabe's back.

"_Guess I'm still in trouble,"_ Nate thought in dismay.

"I'm sure you remember Elena," he continued, "And this little angel over here is Juliet."

Nate bent down next to the high chair, giving Juliet a kiss on the cheek, making her giggle.

"I wish we had gotten to know each other better back at the wedding," Gabe said to Elena, "I'm actually a big fan of your work."

"Oh stop," Elena blushed.

"No, I am," Gabe continued, "I was a big fan of your show, and I think you've done fantastic work as a foreign correspondent." Elena smiled shyly at the flattery.

"When Nate first told me about the two of you, I asked, 'Elena Fisher, the _journalist_? The one who had that history program?'"

Nate sat down at the table next to Juliet, with Elena and Gabe following suit.

"I didn't believe him at first," Gabe joked, to which Nate made a hurt expression.

"Oww," Nate said, but Gabe ignored him.

"Then I had to ask how a guy like _him_ managed to get a woman as beautiful as you," Gabe continued, smiling as he got under Nate's skin.

"Hey, I'm right here!" Nate complained. Elena laughed at Nate, knowing that Gabe was messing with him.

"Yeah, sometimes I wonder the same thing," Elena replied with a smirk, Nate's hurt face worsening.

Gabe and Elena shared a laugh at Nate's expense, and then Gabe spoke, "How old is your daughter?" he asked.

"She's eleven months old," Nate said as he poured mashed peas into a bowl in front of Juliet.

"She's a beautiful little girl," Gabe complimented, "You both must be very proud."

"Thank you Mr. Finch, we love her very much," Elena replied.

"Please, call me Gabe," Finch politely requested

"Do you have kids of your own Gabe?" Elena asked. Gabe's eyes seemed to sadden at the question, but only for a moment.

"No, I don't," he replied, "Life just never saw fit to give me the chance."

"I'm sorry," Elena said, detecting the sad pause in the conversation. Then she turned to address Nate. "Nate, could you please go get the drinks for me?"

"Sure," Nate said, and he got up from his seat, leaving the room. Juliet whined as her dad walked out, looking down helplessly at her mashed peas. Elena chuckled at her daughter's predicament, and moved to the seat next to her. Juliet smiled when her mom picked up the tiny spoon, taking a scoop of mashed peas. Gabe chuckled as Elena pretended the spoon was an airplane, Juliet opening her mouth wide to eat her food.

"So, how's it feel being Nate's _professor_?" Elena asked as Nate walked back in, "Must be strange, since you were both students when you met."

"It's not as strange as you might think," Gabe replied, "We just have to remember that in the classroom_ I'm_ his _teacher_, _he's_ my _student_, and we treat each other accordingly. Outside of class, it's no different than when we were in school together."

"You know," Nate piped in, "It was actually when I first heard that you had become a professor here that I started seriously thinking about going back to school."

The three of them continued to talk and reminisce as they ate, telling stories about their respective lives. Gabe eventually broached the subject of the dig in South America, and Elena listened quietly as he explained all of its details. Nate was actually surprised she hadn't spoken out against it yet. When Gabe was finished speaking, Elena pondered the idea quietly for a moment.

"I don't know," Elena said hesitantly, "It sounds like a great opportunity, but I don't know if I can get the time off of work, and I'm sorry, but I do not trust a contract daycare center in Brazil."

"Well, we could-" Nate started, but Elena interrupted him.

"And we're not letting Sully babysit again! You remember what happened last time!"

The three of them sat in silence for a moment; interrupted only by Juliet's fussing, demanding the rest of her food.

"Well," Gabe broke the silence, "You could always come down as a journalist, and just bring Juliet with you. It could make a good story, and the site coordinators would love the publicity."

Nate and Elena stewed on the suggestion for a moment. "We'll have to think about it," they agreed.

"Of course," Gabe said, "Take all the time you need."

The rest of dinner was fairly uneventful, with the exception of Juliet ruining Finch's sweater vest with a well slung glob of mashed peas. After apologizing and cleaning up the mess as best they could, Nate and Elena said goodbye to Finch, and Finch thanked them again as he left for his car.

"You've got to admit, this dig sounds like a good idea," Nate whispered as he delicately placed a sleeping Juliet down in her crib.

"It does Nate, but I'm not sure if you should go."

"I'm not the same guy I was eight years ago," Nate whispered, "I'm not going to go on some adventure, freak out about our relationship, then disappear for months on end!"

"I know, Nate, I know. I trust you, but we need to think about our family, about Juliet."

"I'm not going off treasure hunting again! This is a safe, legitimate archaeological dig," Nate reassured, "No guns, no cursed cities, and nobody trying to kill me, I promise." Then with a cocky grin, he added, "C'mon, what could possibly go wrong?"

_One month later._

"_This is not how I thought this would go,"_ Nate thought, wincing as he took a swift punch to the ribs.

Bringing his arms up, he barely managed to block two powerful strikes to his face. Seeing an opening, he threw a left hook to his assailant's jaw. But his opponent outmaneuvered him, bringing an uppercut underneath Nate's punch, knocking the wind out of him. As he tried to catch his breath, he caught a jab to the nose and a cross to the jaw. He felt blood fill his nose, his head ringing, and moved to block a body shot. Successfully countering his opponent's attack, he delivered three jabs followed by a cross to his attacker's chin.

"_Alright, I can get this guy."_

Then, as he moved to block a body blow, a powerful haymaker plowed into his temple. His vision blurred as he spun on his feet and fell to the ground, almost blacking out.

"Hey Nate… NATE!" he heard a voice call out as he blinked, trying to remain conscious. He couldn't black out now "Nate, c'mon man, you've gotta get up! C'mon, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Nate's vision cleared just in time to see David Reese standing over him, giving him the middle finger.

"Very funny asshole," Nate groaned, pushing David's hand away as he tried to sit off the mat.

"Come on Nate, is that the best you've got?" Reese mocked as he reached a gloved hand down to Nate's fallen body.

Nate pulled off his right boxing glove, and reached up, grabbing David's outstretched hand. Reese helped his friend to his feet, a cocky smirk spread across his face. Nate pulled off his other glove, sat them in the corner of the ring, and took a drink from his water bottle.

"You keep dropping your guard on your left," Reese continued, his Kentucky accent thick, patronizing Nate more than teaching him. "I don't know _how_ you lasted so long in the dangerous world of thieves and treasure-seekers."

Nate laughed as he sat down in the corner of the ring. Reese's sarcasm was never ending.

"Oh, and I suppose living the life of a Kentucky con man makes you so much tougher than me!" Nate replied cynically.

"Well my time on the Rangers' boxing team helped, but I had my fair share of dangerous run-ins in my grifting days too!" Reese grinned, pushing his dirty blonde hair out of his face.

"Oh yeah, you were Mr. _Army Boxer_," Nate laughed, "And thinking of your 'dangerous run-ins,' wasn't the reason you left Kentucky because you managed to piss off both the Crowder's _and_ the Bennett's in one job?" Nate asked as he wiped the sweat off of his face.

"What's your point?" Reese inquired.

"That there's a fine line between tough and stupid."

"Well I think we both walked that line regularly," Reese countered, "And sure, almost every scumbag in the county had tried to kill me before I got out of there, but I _did_ get almost a quarter mil from that _one_ job."

"Did you not stop to think, at _any_ point in that process, that cheating, lying to, and robbing _two_ of the biggest criminal families in Kentucky _at the same time,_ was a bad idea?" Nate asked with an amused smile.

"Well, I guess I just, how'd you always put it?" Reese paused for a moment, a big grin on his face, "I didn't think that far ahead."

Nate laughed at the sound of his old mantra being thrown back at him.

"Besides," Reese continued, "From what I've heard, _you_ did your share of trying to rip-off extremely dangerous criminals too. Guess we're both just suckers for money and life threatening hare-brained schemes."

"I suppose you've got a point," Nate sighed, a small half smile glancing across his face. He took another swig from his water bottle, and wiped the blood from his nose. After pausing for a moment, his grin broadened. "Ready to go again?"

"Oh what, you haven't let me whoop your ass enough for one day?" Reese teased, "Hope you can move faster this time!"

"Shut up jackass!" Nate retorted, trying to counter Reese's cockiness, "You got lucky."

"Oh luck, is that it? Did I bring a rabbit's foot, or find a four leaf clover in the parking lot?" Reese laughed when he could tell he was getting under Nate's skin, "Or maybe it's the twenty pounds of luck I've got on you!"

Nate chuckled as he slipped on his boxing gloves, "Ah, I've beaten guys bigger than you!" he cracked as stretched his shoulders out, "Let's see how well your twenty pounds of luck holds up this time!"

Reese laughed, and put on his boxing gloves. Stepping forward, he met Nate in the center of the ring, the two of them standing equal height to each other, and each with equally cocky grins.

"The con-man versus the treasure hunter," Reese joked as they touched gloves, "Round two, fight!"

Meanwhile, a man in a three piece suit stood outside the boxing gym, barely noticed by the world around him, looking in through the plate glass window at Nate and David. He watched them fight for a few moments before he turned way, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he walked down the street. He hit the speed dial button, and raised the phone to his ear.

"Mr. Edwards," the man said in a calm, articulate voice when the phone picked up, "It's me. The word is '_go_.'"

Without saying another word, he flipped the phone closed, and stuffed it in his pocket.

Across town, Elena pushed Juliet's stroller up the driveway, returning home from their weekly trip to the park. Juliet was quiet as she pushed the stroller through the front door, wrapped tightly in a small blanket. Elena kicked her shoes off as she made her way to the nursery, her feet tired and weary from the long walk. She reached into the stroller, lifting Juliet out as carefully and delicately as she could.

"I'm sorry baby," Elena cooed as Juliet stirred, visibly distressed from being moved.

Elena held Juliet close, and began rocking her in her arms. Juliet gurgled, smiling as her mother began to sing a lullaby to her.

"_Catch a falling star, and put it in your pocket,_

_Save it for a rainy day._

_Catch a falling star, and…_

Elena paused as the lights flickered momentarily. She stared at them for a moment after they returned to normal, shrugged it off, and turned her attention back to her baby. She started to rock again, returning to her lullaby.

_Catch a falling star, and put it in your pocket,_

_Never let it fade away."_

The lights flickered again. _"Need to call that electrician again,"_ Elena thought. She looked down at Juliet, who was fast asleep, and smiled as she stepped over to the crib. Her heart skipped a beat as she heard a voice, whistling the tune of the lullaby she had just finished. She placed Juliet down in her crib, and walked cautiously out into the hallway, chills going up her spine as the whistling continued.

"Nate?" Elena called out nervously. She turned and locked the baby's door when there was no response. She jumped at the sound of breaking glass, and ran into the bedroom. She reached frantically under the bed, and pulled out a small lock box. After punching in the key code, she opened the box and pulled out Nate's old Beretta. She made sure it was loaded, but before she could turn around, a large hand grabbed her by the arm. She screamed, and blindly swung a punch, hitting the man in the face. He staggered back, and Elena shot him in the stomach.

"Who are you?" She asked her attacker, but he said nothing. He just held his stomach, a look of pain and rage on his face as he fell to the ground.

Then another man came in, a large Russian who looked like an amateur bodybuilder, and fired a shot at Elena, but she ducked down behind the bed. The gunfire stopped, and Elena sat there silently for a moment, her heart racing and her breathing labored. All she could hear was that unnerving whistling. Just when she was about to pop out to fire again, a hand reached over the bed, pulling her out by her hair. She screamed in pain as she was dragged out from behind her cover, kicking her legs in the air. Firing several shots, she hit nothing but air, and the gun was quickly wrenched out of her hand. She punched the man in the face, and then hit him in the groin. He dropped her, and she tried to run for the door.

But before she could get to it, the door was blocked by a tall, slender man in a black suit with no tie, the lights flickering as he stepped into the room. He finished whistling the lullaby tune, and smiled the most disturbing grin that Elena had ever seen. All of her stubborn will to fight seemed to disappear, and she stood frozen as this new man struck a match, lit his cigarette, and stared at her with jet black eyes.

"You know," the man said in an Irish accent, grinning wide, and his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth "That's not my usual tune, but I think I like it."

Nate shook hands with Reese as they exited the gym. "I _told_ you that you got lucky!" he called out as they parted ways.

"Don't worry, I'll get you back!" Reese yelled back with a cynical wave, not even bothering to turn around.

Nate laughed as he walked up to his car, opening the driver's side door.

"_He may be one of the best brawlers I know,"_ Nate thought, _"But I'll be damned if I let him know it."_

Nate sat down in the car, and turned the ignition key. Creedence played on the radio as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, and dialed Elena while he drove away.

"C'mon Elena, pick up the phone," Nate groaned as the tone dialed out. When he reached voicemail, he hung up, tossing the phone into the passenger seat.

"_Must be busy with Juliet,"_ he thought.

He drove peacefully for a short time; the only sound was Fortunate Son playing on the radio. Then the phone rang in the seat next to him. He picked it up as he reached a stoplight. The caller ID said it was Elena, so he hit the answer button

"Hey baby, just wanted to let you know, Reese and I are done at the gym, and I'm on my way home."

He listened expectantly for an answer, but when he got one, he felt his heart race and his blood boil.

"Listen closely Mr. Drake," a man's voice told him over the phone.

**Things are finally starting to pick up! Benjamin's back, Elena's been kidnapped, and Nate had no idea it was happening! What will Nate do, how will he save Elena, and what is Ben up to? I had lots of fun writing this chapter. It was originally written without the dinner scene, but I was sitting around, bored out of my gourd, and I decided to write the scene, see how well I could make it. After I finished it, I loved it, so I had to include it! And yes, I did make a reference to Justified. I could've just made up the names of the crime families that Reese had pissed off in his con man days, but I thought the Crowder and Bennett reference would be more fun. I had to resist the urge to greatly lengthen the scene between Elena and Ben. I think Ben's an incredibly fun character to write, and I wanted to write the entire interaction between him and Elena, but I knew it would be better to cut the scene off.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok, first off, I want to say thank you to Discordchick for pointing out the continuity error in my story. When I wrote that Finch had never met Elena before, I had completely forgotten that he had been at the wedding. I went back and corrected the issue, and now there's no incongruity. (Part of me wanted to say that since the flashback was a dream, that means that Gabe might not have actually been there at the wedding, but I thought that would be cheap and lazy). And, just as a warning, part of this chapter gets pretty dark, so brace yourselves.**

Elena sat calmly, as calmly as she could with a man holding a gun to her stomach. She sat at a table in a patio café, the Russian man sitting next to her, holding his pistol under the table. Looking around nervously, she watched as dozens of people walked by on the street, and people sat in every table around them. Not one of them had any clue that her life was in danger. It amazed her sometimes, how oblivious people could be.

"You do _anything_ to make a scene, attract anyone's attention, and you're dead," the Russian whispered calmly, "Just sit there, enjoy your drink, and wait."

"Yeah, this isn't my first hostage situation Boris," Elena sarcastically replied, trying to maintain her composure, "And I'm sure you know that you'd never get away with killing me in front of all of these witnesses."

"Oh really?" the man asked with a chuckle.

"Yep. Same reason you wanted Nate to meet you here. A nice, public place where you knew he couldn't kill _you_."

"Who says I care if I get away?" the Russian replied, and then he smirked, "You can just hope we never have to test your theory," he paused, and then spoke again, "And you should be glad you're with me, and not Edwards."

Elena felt a tremor of fear at the mention of that man, but before she could respond, Nate stepped up to the table. She smiled with relief at the sight of him, but the feeling of a gun pushing into her abdomen quickly reminded her how serious her situation was. Nate stood quietly in front of their table for a moment, his face the picture of barely restrained rage.

"You okay Elena? Did he hurt you?" Nate asked, the worry in his voice mixing with his anger.

Elena started to answer, but the Russian interrupted her. "She's fine."

Nate looked at the man with an expression of pure hate. "I wasn't talking to you." He spat. "What do you want from me?" he asked as he sat down across from his wife's kidnapper. His voice was calm, but a mountain of rage was clearly just below the surface.

"The man in charge wants your expertise," the man said, "In obtaining something _very_ valuable."

Nate chuckled, but his face remained stern. "You've got the wrong guy pal; I'm done with that shit. I'm taking my wife, and we're going home."

"I don't think you understand the gravity of your situation Mr. Drake," the Russian replied, cocking the hammer on his pistol. Nate's eyes darted down at the sound, staring at where the gun was hidden.

"Okay," Nate replied slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. His fists clenched beneath the table, knuckles turning white. "Let my wife go, take me to go see your boss, and we can talk."

The Russian grinned, "Why would I let her go? So that she can go and mount a rescue to save you?"

"I don't need saving." Nate stated plainly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I can't let her go, even if I wanted to. My boss wants me to bring both of you."

"And who might your boss be?" Nate inquired, though he barely cared what the answer was.

"Mr. Henry Reimer," the Russian responded, "He's very anxious to meet you."

"Why? I've never heard of the guy before in my life!"

"You don't know him, but he remembers you," the Russian said, "And I've been instructed to bring both you _and_ your wife to meet him."

"Then I'm afraid we're at crossed- purposes," Nate replied. He looked at Elena for a moment. She was visibly shaken, but holding together well. "Because you won't let my wife go unless I help you, and I won't help you unless you let her go."

"You mistake me Mr. Drake," the man said with a cold seriousness, "My boss may want me to bring in both of you, but if you don't cooperate, he will have no problem with me putting a bullet in your wife's pretty blonde head."

Elena watched silently, her breathing becoming ragged, her heart racing. She watched as Nate stewed for a moment, fuming in anger. Then, much to her surprise, Nate suddenly took on a completely calm, confident demeanor. She frowned in confusion as a smile stretched across his face.

"You're not going to do that." Nate said confidently, his tone bordering on cocky, "In fact, you're going to put way your gun, let Elena go, and pretend this never happened."

Elena was surprised by Nate's sudden change of attitude, and she stared at him I confusion as she tried to figure out what he was up to.

"What makes you think I'd do something like that?" the man asked, and Elena gasped as he jabbed his gun into her side, emphasizing his control of the situation. She took a deep breath, cringing as she held in tears, but Nate remained surprisingly cool.

"You ever heard of a spot called 'the apricot'?" Nate asked with a confident smile.

Elena raised an eyebrow, and the Russian laughed. "The what?" he asked

"The apricot," Nate repeated calmly, "It's a sniper's term, referring to the place where the brain stem meets the spine."

"Who gives a shit?" The Russian spat.

Nate chuckled. "I'm just saying, hit a guy there, and he's not pulling any trigger. It's just," Nate paused, snapping his fingers, "Lights out."

The Russian man laughed. "Oh, and why the fuck should I care? You really think you can shoot me before I kill her? You think you're that good?"

"Me? No, I'm not. I'm not even armed," Nate smiled, "But I don't need to be. I just need to say one word."

"And what would that be?"

Nate smiled, and let out a chuckle. He took a deep breath, and then spoke. "Baskerville."

The Russian raised an eyebrow in confusion, but before he could say anything, a loud bang filled the street, and his blood splattered everywhere. Then he slumped down in his chair, a large hole clear through his head. Elena screamed at the top of her lungs, and Nate screamed an obscenity in shock, then quickly grabbed Elena's hand, pulling her away as everyone around them panicked. Elena felt her heart pound, and looked at Nate, who had a frightened look on his face as they ran away though the crowd. Elena started to cry as they escaped the crowd, running into a nearby alley. As soon as they ran out of sight, Nate's panicky demeanor disappeared, and he let out a relieved chuckle as he caught his breath. Elena stared at him, completely befuddled by the change of events. Once he had caught his breath, Nate looked closely at Elena, and his expression turned to one of fear and concern.

"Are you OK? Did he hurt you?" Nate asked worriedly, pulling her in close, embracing her to let her she was safe.

"WHAT JUST HAPPENED? WHAT WAS THAT!" she screamed, tears running down her face as they continued down the alley.

"_That_, was the apricot," Nate said matter-of-factly, seemingly oblivious to Elena's confusion.

"WHAT?" Elena yelled, and then took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on herself. "Explain to me, what just happened!"

"I came prepared," Nate said as they turned a corner.

_23 minutes earlier_

Nate threw the phone down in anger after the kidnapper hung up. He made a U-turn at the next intersection. His mind raced furiously as he headed to the location the man had given to him. Then, as he went back past the boxing gym, an idea dawned on him.

"_Hope to God he answers his phone!"_ Nate thought as he fished the phone off of the floor. Nate dialed the number, his hands starting to shake as the adrenaline rushed through his veins. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the man on the other end pick up the phone.

"What, you didn't get to gloat enough already?" David Reese said tiredly over the phone.

"Reese, I need your help," Nate said, ignoring David's comment.

Reese picked up on the seriousness in Nate's voice, and his sarcastic demeanor vanished. "Yeah, what is it?" he asked.

"Elena's been kidnapped," Nate had to pause to take a deep breath, "Someone's taken her, I need your help!"

"Oh my god," Reese said, "Of course, what do you need man, how can I help?"

"Do you still have your old sniper rifle?"

_The present_

"That was David?" Elena asked, "How did he do that? I thought he was just a retired con man!"

"Before that he had served a term as a sniper in the Army Rangers," Nate explained, "I told him where the meeting would be, and asked him to find a place to be lookout. I left the call active, and stuck the phone in my shirt pocket so he could hear everything."

"Yeah, you forgot to mention when you chose your stupid code word," Reese interrupted as he rounded the corner, making Elena nearly jump out of her skin. He apologized to her, and then turned back to Nate. "'Baskerville?' Really? You're such a dork." He shook his head disapprovingly as he pulled out the rubber band that had been holding his hair in a small, messy ponytail.

Nate let out an exasperated sigh. That's not _really_ that important! Can we keep moving, please?" Reese nodded, and they made their way to the car parked a few hundred yards away.

"What'd you do with the rifle?" Nate asked.

"Disassembled it," Reese said coolly, pointing at the duffle bag slung over his shoulder. They kept moving down the alley, but Elena stopped cold in her tracks.

"Nate!" she yelled, "Oh god," she whimpered, starting to cry.

"What, what is it?" he asked worriedly.

"Juliet was asleep in the house!" she cried, "What if they did something to her!"

"Oh no," Nate groaned. His heart sunk like a stone.

"Son of a bitch," Reese mumbled, "And here I thought I was gonna get a good night's sleep." Nate glared at him, and Reese apologized for his poorly timed quip. Then the three of them ran at breakneck speed towards the car.

Minutes later, the car peeled into the driveway, and Nate and Reese hopped out, followed closely by Elena. Reese held his reassembled rifle in his hands, and Nate was equipped with a pistol Reese had given him. Covering each other's backs, they moved quickly towards the house, and their spirits sank even further when they saw all of the windows broken.

"God damn it," Reese groaned as they stepped onto the porch. Nate moved in a near-panic, and stopped when he saw a paper bag sitting on the welcome mat, his name written crudely on it with permanent marker. He picked the bag up, and out fell Juliet's pacifier and bottle, along with a folded post it note. Elena looked at the note fearfully; Nate felt his heart pound as he opened it.

_You won't need these anymore, _the note read, and they both bolted into the house, never having felt so afraid before.

"Hey, be careful!" Reese yelled as he ran in after them, his rifle at the ready.

They ran through the house, barely noticing the trashed furniture as they made a bee line for Juliet's bedroom. Nate felt chills when he saw the door to the nursery, broken completely in half, knocked off of its hinges. Elena ran past him, panicking as she looked down into the crib. A huge rush of relief washed over both of them when they saw Juliet lying there, alive and untouched. Their nerves fried, they took a moment to catch her breath, and Elena took Juliet into her arms, reassuring herself that her baby was fine. Reese stood in the doorway, rifle in hand, looking out for other intruders. He moved away to check the other rooms, and everything was silent for a moment. Elena cried as she held Juliet close, and then Nate noticed a post-it note stuck to the crib.

_Gotcha! _It read, with a smiley face doodled on it. Nate felt furious and helpless at the same time.

Nate and Elena sat silently next to each other on the nursery floor, and Elena held Juliet tight as tears ran down her face.

"Hey Nate, come in here!" Reese called from the other room. Nate sighed, kissed Elena on the forehead, and then he slowly stood up and walked out of the room.

"What now?" Nate groaned. He'd had enough shit for one evening. He walked down the hall, pistol in hand, and met Reese in the bedroom.

"Holy shit," Nate jumped as he walked through the door. Reese was kneeling over a dead body, a man with a bullet wound in his gut, lying in a pool of blood. "I guess Elena got one of them before they took her. I should've known she wouldn't go easily."

Reese sighed. "Yeah she's a tough girl, but the gunshot wasn't what killed him."

"What?" Nate asked, but then he looked more closely at the body. The throat was partially crushed. "What the fuck?" he whispered, "Who the hell did that?"

"I don't know," Reese replied quietly, "But there's no way Elena did this."

Reese looked up as he finished his sentence, and Nate turned to see Elena standing in the doorway, Juliet resting on her shoulder. Nate stood up, walked toward her, and held her in a comforting embrace.

"What the hell happened baby?" he asked quietly.

_2 hours earlier_

Elena stood silently as Benjamin Edwards leaned on the door frame, puffing on his cigarette. She could've sworn the room seemed to chill slightly as he entered the room, but she knew that was impossible. The lights had returned to normal, and Ben flicked his cigarette butt into the face of the man who was bleeding on the floor. The Russian stood silently on the other side of the room

"Good evening Mrs. Drake," the Irishman said, "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Benjamin Edwards."

Elena was slightly put off by his politeness. She looked at him in confusion as he smiled at her, the grin carrying an air of a bad boy attitude: flirty, dangerous, and slightly sexy. Elena had to admit, he was fairly good looking. But there was something, something indefinable, which she found unsettling about him. She cursed internally when she caught herself eyeballing the man who had just broken into her house.

"You know what I see here?" Ben asked with a smile, talking to no one in particular, "I see all the elements of a perfect day!" Elena stared at him in confusion, and he continued to speak in a happy tone, "A nice house! A beautiful woman! A bleeding gunshot victim! What else could you possibly need?"

"Why are you here?" Elena asked, her voice quivering, "What do you want?"

"I have business with your husband," Ben replied dismissively, as if it didn't matter.

He stepped slowly towards her, and she stood frozen in place, her heart pounding. He began to circle her slowly, and she trembled as he smelled her hair. His grin turned devious, a mischievous sparkle in his black eyes.

"Ooo, nice!" he exclaimed, "I love your perfume." Elena cringed as his hand caressed her shoulder, silently circling her for a moment. "You wanna play a game with me?" Ben asked with a frighteningly playful tone.

"No, I don't I want you to leave," Elena whimpered. Then Ben startled her by reacting like a spoiled child.

"Nooo, come on, let's play a game!" he begged in a whiny voice.

Elena tried to move around him to get to the door, but he blocked her path. "It'll be fun, I promise," he said, his voice serious again, "As long as you don't mind not being able to walk straight for a few days."

Elena backed away, scared senseless, and Ben slowly followed in front of her, a demented, flirtatious smile on his face. She jumped slightly when she backed into her dresser, and was unable to move as Ben came within inches of her.

"Don't run," he whispered. He leaned in closer, smiling deviously, and started to run his hands along Elena's hips.

Elena jumped as she felt his hands squeeze her rear. "Get away from me!" she yelled, and summoned the courage to slap him.

But he caught her hand before it hit him, his face turning cold. She immediately followed with a kick to his groin. He buckled over, and Elena began to run away, but the Russian caught her.

"You BITCH!" Edwards yelled, recovering from the blow.

The lights flickered erratically as he strode angrily across the room, putting a hand around Elena's throat, slowly applying pressure. As Elena gagged, Ben stared at her, his soulless eyes filled with hate. Then, he suddenly became tranquil, and he let go of her. As Elena gasped for air, Ben smiled warmly at her momentarily, the lights returning to normal, and he ran his hand along her cheek. Then his expression turned cold again, and he looked at the Russian man.

"Call Drake, stick to the plan," he said, his psychotic playfulness replaced with a tone of pure business, "Put her into the car."

The Russian started to drag Elena out of the room, Edwards close behind. Then the man on the floor spoke.

"Mr. Edwards," the man said weakly as he lay on his back, his hands pressed against his wound, "Please, you can't leave me here,"

The three of them stopped, and Ben turned back to address the man. "You know, you're right," he said, a look of mock concern on his face as he knelt down beside him, "I can't just leave you here like this. If you stay here, and you manage to call an ambulance, the cops would visit you in the hospital." His smile became sadistic and menacing, "And I can't let you be near cops, now can I? Take the risk you might talk!"

"No, I won't talk to anybody, I swear!" the man replied in earnest.

"I'm sorry Richard," Ben said as he stood up straight, "But YOU ARE THE WEAKEST LINK! GOODBYE!"

Then Ben lifted his foot, a look of sadistic joy on his face, and Elena screamed when he stomped his foot down on the man's throat, crushing it beneath his weight. His face was like that of a kid who was burning ants for fun. Horrified by what she saw, Elena remained motionless as the Russian dragged her out of the house, leaving Ben inside, whistling his favorite tune.

_The present_

Nate held Elena tight, silent as she finished telling them what happened to her. Reese sat on the bed, rifle resting on his thigh. Nobody knew what to say. Nate felt angry, scared, helpless, and furious all at the same time. He held Elena as much for his own benefit as for hers, his eyes watering as he reassured himself that she was safe now.

Reese finally broke the silence. "Holy shit," he whispered, stunned. No one responded. He looked over at the couple, but they just stood there, holding each other close, each of them seeking comfort in the other. Then, the silence was broken again.

"Nathan?" a disembodied voice called, "Are you there Nathan?" Elena trembled in fear when she heard that Irish accent. "I know you ah-are!" the voice continued in a sing song manner.

The three of them looked around, searching for the source of the voice. Nate finally found a small walkie talkie, hidden underneath a pillow on the bed. He held it up in front of his face, angled so everyone could hear.

"Ooh hoo hoo, I wish I could see your face right now Nathan," Ben teased over the phone, "I really got you didn't I? Made you think I hurt your baby girl!"

"I don't care who you are, or what you want. If I find you, I'll kill you," Nate replied in quiet rage.

Ben continued as if Nate hadn't said anything. "I wouldn't hurt your little girl Nathan! I love babies! I can't get enough of the bite sized little things!"

Nate shook in anger. "What do you want?"

"This was just a warning Nathan," Ben said seriously, "Next time you try and get clever, think you can outsmart us, you'll have to deal with a lot worse than a post it note. We'll be in touch."

Nate had had enough of these people. "LISTEN TO ME YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!" he exploded into the phone, "I AM NOT HELPING YOU! I DON'T GIVE A SHIT _WHAT_ YOUR BOSS WANTS, OR HOW _VALUABLE_ IT IS, YOU LEAVE ME _AND_ MY FAMILY ALONE!

Elena and Reese stood in shock as Nate went ballistic.

"LEAVE MY FAMILY ALONE, GOT IT! AND GET IT THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEAD, I WILL _NOT_ HELP YOU!"

Nate stood there fuming, shaking from his outburst. Then a short reply came singing.

"Yes you will!"

Nate listened for more, but there was nothing else. He yelled in rage, throwing the radio across the room, smashing it against the far wall. Everyone stood there in shocked silence. Not one of them had any clue what to do.


	7. Chapter 7

**A lot of stuff went down in the last chapter, I hope everybody enjoyed it! I was afraid that the scene between Elena and Ben was a little too dark, but I felt that, with a character like Ben, it's so inappropriate, it's appropriate.**

Benjamin Edwards walked down the street, a smile on his face and a spring in his step. He had traded his suit coat for a black leather jacket, and despite the late hour, dark sunglasses adorned his face. He turned quickly to his right, walked into a nice bar & grill, and leapfrogged up onto the nearest barstool.

"Wheeee!" he exclaimed as he spun around in circles on his seat.

He stopped abruptly to face the bar, and waited with a large flirtatious smile on his face as the pretty redheaded bartender made her way over to him. She blushed as he removed his glasses, his eyes wide, taking in her figure.

"What'll you have?" she asked him, returning the flirty look, eyeing him as he did the same to her.

"The strongest drink you got baby," Ben winked, "Work was a killer."

The bartender poured him a glass of their strongest drink as he watched happily. She started to turn way to put the bottle back in its proper place, but before she could, the glass was empty, and Ben had a satisfied look on his face. She stared at him for a moment; she hadn't even seen him move. But the glass was empty, and the smile on his face said he was expecting a refill.

"Thanks darling," he flirted as she poured him another drink. Before she knew it, she had given him five refills, and except for the ecstatic look on his face, he seemed unaffected by it. After he downed the last glass, he took a deep breath, bared his teeth, his eyes bugging out, and exhaled sharply. As the bartender went to help another customer, she looked over at him from across the bar. He had a strangely endearing, almost manic personality. He was spinning on his barstool again, like a little kid.

"_Maybe it affected him more than I thought," _she considered.

He stopped, facing away from the bar, his slick curly black hair slightly messy, and looked out the glass front of the building, craning his neck as he stared at the establishment across the street.

"_It almost looks like he's watching someone,"_ she thought as he pulled out his phone, taking a few pictures. She stared out the window, trying to follow his gaze, but with the crowd across the street, it was impossible to tell. So she just continued to serve her customers.

Back at the bar, Edwards had his large eyes level with the bar, staring intently at his empty glass, watching droplets of moisture run down the side, a look of wonder on his face. His eyes perked up when he saw another bartender walk up to him.

"You want a refill?" the new bartender asked.

"Yes please," Ben said enthusiastically. As the bartender stepped away to grab the bottle, Ben turned his head, and smiled giddily when he saw a gorgeous brunette sitting next to him. "Better make it two," he whispered when the bartender came back. But he frowned when he saw a young man flirting with the girl, holding her attention. Ben felt what little was left of his sensible side nag him to stay focused, that he was here for work.

"_Shut up brain."_ He thought in response, surprised that he had any trace of sensibility left.

"I'll be back I a moment," Ben told the bartender, and followed the young man into the bathroom.

A few moments later, Edwards walked calmly back out into the bar alone, drying his hands off with a paper towel. He sat hopped up onto his seat, and the bartender sat down two full glasses in front of him. The bartender eyed him suspiciously as Ben stuck the paper towel in his pocket. He could've sworn there were traces of red on the paper towel. But he really didn't care, so he just walked away. Ben turned to face the brunette next to him.

"Hello!" Ben said, sliding one of the drinks to her, getting her attention, and when he smiled that bad boy smile, she felt her knees weaken. "You wanna play a game with me?" he asked playfully, and she blushed in response.

Next thing she knew, they were both in the bathroom, unable to keep their hands or lips off of each other. Everything was moving so fast, she didn't know what to think. Before she knew it, he had pulled her shirt off, and his jacket was on the floor. Ben managed to pull his eyes away from her long enough to look at one of the locked stalls, and he hoped she wouldn't notice the limp, motionless body inside. Not that he cared about said body being found; he just thought it would ruin the moment.

The heat of the moment escalated as they groped each other, and Ben started to unbutton his white shirt, the two of them grabbing at each other with animalistic energy.

Then, the brunette jumped at a loud bang sound. It sounded like a gunshot outside. She looked at Ben, whose face had turned to one of frustration.

"SHIT!" he yelled, stomping his foot on the ground. Then, without another word, he picked up his jacket, and had stormed off, goose stepping out of the room like a spoiled kid who was just told 'no', leaving the pretty brunette alone and half naked in the bathroom.

Ben walked robotically out into the bar, shoved a man out of his way, and looked coldly out the window into the panicked crowd outside. He watched intently, scanning the faces as they ran away from the café across the street, and just as he had expected, saw Nathan Drake running from the scene, hand in hand with Elena. Ben smiled, taking a few pictures with his phone.

"Hey asshole!" called out the man who Ben had shoved, but Ben didn't respond. "Hey, I'm talking to you, you skinny prick!" the man continued, grabbing Ben's shoulder.

Without even turning to face him, Ben swung his arm out, backhanding the man's face. The man came clear off of his feet, landed several feet away, and slid across the floor to the other side of the room. The man groaned, strained to lift his head, and looked over at Ben in shock and astonishment, but Ben had made no further acknowledgement to his presence. He just kept staring out the window. He looked at one of the tables across the street, and smirked when he saw the body of the Russian man slumped dead in a chair, a large chunk missing from his head.

"Cute," he mumbled with a smile, and watched as Nate and Elena ran into a nearby alley. He popped an unfiltered cigarette into his mouth, and struck a match on the wall just as the cute brunette walked up to him.

"What the fuck was that?" she asked angrily, "Why'd you run off?"

Ben didn't even turn to face her. "Shut up," he replied coldly, his flirtatious demeanor completely gone. She stared at him angrily for a moment, but Ben said nothing else, he didn't even look at her. Her anger was replaced with shock when Ben took a last puff of his cigarette, exhaled the smoke as he pulled the end of it from his mouth, then extinguished on the back of his hand.

"What the fuck?" She whispered in disbelief, but Ben ignored her as he walked out of the bar, his whistling still audible after the door closed.

He stopped outside the bar, staring at the dead Russian across the street, examining the angle of the hole in the man's head. He looked down the street one way, then the other. Then he licked the tip of his finger, and held it up like he was making a wind call. After a moment, he nodded his head, and then turned to his right, and walked away, moving with purpose as police sirens became audible in the distance.

Ben walked down the block, stopped at an intersection, and leaned against the corner building, his sunglasses sitting on top of his head. He watched the other side of the street, and saw a man exit a parking garage about a hundred yards away.

"_So predictable Mr. Reese,"_ Ben thought with a grin, snapping a picture with his phone.

Reese had his dirty blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, and shifted the duffle bag on his shoulder as he crossed the street, headed for the alleyway. Ben held out his hand in the shape of a gun, his long fingers following Reese's movements.

"Bang!" he whispered with a demented grin, but didn't move as the Reese disappeared. Ben looked down at his watch, then turned and walked away, putting his sunglasses back onto his face. He walked in silence for a few minutes, and then his phone buzzed. He stopped, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

_They're at the house._

Ben smiled as he read the text message, and sat down on a nearby bus stop bench. He waited for a few minutes, drumming his hands on the bench and making musical beat noises with his mouth, and then pulled a little walkie talkie from his pocket.

"Nathan?" he spoke into the mike, his voice imitating a child's, "Are you there Nathan?"

He waited for a response, but when none came, he smiled, and then continued, his words becoming song-like. "I know you ah-are!"

Waiting for a moment, Ben smiled before continuing. "Ooh hoo hoo, I wish I could see your face right now Nathan," he paused for dramatic effect, "I really got you didn't I? Made you think I hurt your baby girl!"

He let go of the button on his walkie, and listened for a reply.

"I don't care who you are, or what you want," Nate's voice replied quietly. Ben faked snoring until he knew Nate was done talking. Then he grinned even larger, pushing his walkie button.

"I wouldn't hurt your little girl Nathan! I love babies!" Ben exclaimed, then licked his lips devilishly, "I can't get enough of the bite sized little things!"

Ben's manic attitude became cold and serious as Nate replied.

"This was just a warning Nathan," he said calmly, his tone all business, "Next time you try and get clever, think you can outsmart us, you'll have to deal with a lot worse than a post it note. We'll be in touch."

Ben continued to sit at the bus stop, and was almost unfazed as Nate's voice exploded over the radio.

Ben raised an eye brow, and then groaned as he started to make a mocking hand puppet gesture, barely listening. Then he caught the last few words Nate said.

"I WILL _NOT_ HELP YOU!" he heard Nate shout. He chuckled, smiling a cocky smile.

"_Aww, little Nathan thinks he's being threatening!"_ Then, after pausing to satisfy his desire for dramatic effect, Ben sang into the mike.

"Yes you will!"

Ben turned his head, seeing a bus approaching. He dropped the walkie talkie into the trash, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Yeah, it's Edwards," Ben said after dialing a number, "Everything went exactly like you said Mr. Reimer. I told him we'd be in touch." Ben said, and then hung up the phone, stepped onto the bus without a word, the lights onboard flickering as it pulled away.

The next morning, David Reese stood silently in the doorway of the Drake family's house, surveying the neighborhood, listening to the ocean waves as he took one last puff of a cigarette. He flicked his cigarette away, satisfied that there were no threats outside, and stepped back into the house, picking up the rifle sitting right inside the door as he moved. He paced around the house, checking all of the rooms. He looked into the bedroom, and even though they had been through hell, Nate and Elena were sleeping peacefully. The crib had been moved next to their bed, and Reese smiled when he confirmed that Juliet was still sleeping inside.

"_Glad they're all getting some rest,"_ Reese thought, _"They deserve it."_

He walked through the house, rifle resting on his shoulder, and stepped over the broken furniture as he made his way into the kitchen. Sitting his rifle down, he searched through several cabinets, then finally pulled out the coffee grounds. Putting a new filter in the coffee maker, he poured the grounds and started the pot. Reese walked into the living room, plopping down on the couch as the coffee pot gurgled.

"_Yep,"_ he thought, groaning as the frame of the couch sank beneath him, _"They broke the couch too."_

Reese sat wordlessly for several minutes, his eyes alert, maintaining a constant vigil. He stopped, and a look of concern came over him when he saw Elena walk into the room, looking rested but still shaken up. He sat his rifle against the couch, and crossed the room to greet her.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked worriedly, giving Elena a comforting hug.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Elena replied gently, returning his hug.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're just peachy," Reese teased with lighthearted sarcasm.

"I'm okay, really, just a little rattled," Elena insisted, "How are you? You haven't been up all night have you?"

"No, Nate and I took shifts on watch," Reese explained, "He got the first half of the night, and I took over the second half." He chuckled quietly for a moment, "He was completely drained, but it took some work to convince him to get some rest, and that I could watch over you guys."

Elena sat down wearily in a chair, and looked around the living room. She had been so preoccupied with Juliet the night before; she hadn't noticed how bad the damage to the house was. Over half the furniture was broken, and all the windows had been smashed, with pieces of glass and wood strewn all over the floor.

"Thank you for helping us David," Elena said gratefully, "I don't know what we'd have done without you."

"It's no problem Blondie," Reese whispered reassuringly, "You guys are like family to me, I'd never let anything happen to ya'll."

Reese walked into the kitchen, glass cracking beneath his feet, and pulled two mugs out of a cabinet. He took the coffee pot, filling both mugs to the brim.

"How do you take your coffee?" he called out.

Meanwhile, Nate awoke to the sound of Juliet's baby talk. He lifted his head off wearily, looking at his daughter, who was standing against the side of her crib. Nate blinked several times, groaning as he sat up, shifting his feet onto the floor. He cringed at the feeling of wood and glass splinters on his bare feet, and then grabbed the pistol on the bedside table, tucking it into the back of his jeans before he lifted Juliet up onto his shoulder.

"I wish life was as blissful for me as it is for you," he whispered to Juliet as he stepped over broken photo frames and glass. He stopped at Juliet's room, looking at what was left of the door. It wasn't just taken clear off its hinges; it was broken completely in half, split straight up the middle. Nate looked around, but there was no sign of any furniture or anything having been used as a ram on the door.

"_What the hell?"_ Nate thought, baffled, _"What does something like this?"_

He looked at the split on the door, and right at the center was a forceful indentation. Looking closer, Nate was bewildered by what he saw.

"_That's impossible,"_ Nate thought, staring in disbelief at what, as best he could tell, was a single hand print indented right where the door broke. _"How is that physically possible?"_

He took one last look at the trashed remains of the nursery, sighed, and walked toward the living room. "Happy birthday Juliet." He mumbled wearily into his daughter's ear.

Walking into the living room, he saw Elena and Reese sitting silently, each sipping cups of coffee. From the looks on their faces, both of them were avoiding the subject of what had happened the night before. He couldn't blame them.

"Morning," Nate grumbled, wrapping his free arm around Elena when she came up to greet him.

"You sleep okay baby?" Elena asked as she gave Nate a warm hug.

"Barely," Nate mumbled, "I finally passed out around two thirty in the morning. How are you holding up?"

"My nerves are a little fried, but I'll be okay," Elena reassured, "Can I take Juliet?"

"Of course," Nate replied, handing Juliet over to her mom, "At least _she's_ doing just fine," he added with a smile.

"Yeah," Elena chuckled, "But this is _not_ how I had hoped to spend her first birthday."

"I know baby," Nate whispered, giving Elena a kiss.

Elena sat down in her chair, lightly patting Juliet's back, smiling when she heard her daughter let out a light burp.

"Thanks for staying man," Nate said turning his attention to Reese, "And for all of your help. I don't think I'd have my family together this morning if you hadn't helped us."

"You don't need to thank me brother," Reese assured as he returned his friend's grateful hug, "I'd do anything to help you guys."

Nate put his hand on David's shoulder, guiding him into the other room. Then he pulled the silver pistol from his waistband. "Thanks for the loaner," he said, holding it in his outstretched hand grip first.

"You sure?" Reese asked as he took the weapon from Nate's hand, "You might still need it."

"I've got my own," Nate replied, "They didn't take it when they took Elena."

"Alright," Reese acknowledged, slipping the pistol into the leather quick draw holster on his belt, "What're we gonna do?" Reese asked, "I'm sure we haven't seen the last of these guys."

The two of them stood in silence, pondering their situation. But before either of them could say anything, Elena called out from the living room. Nate and David walked back into the living room, where Elena had the TV on, where a news reporter was talking about the shooting the night before. They watched intently for a moment, but an uncomfortable feeling washed over them as the report continued.

"Son of a bitch," Reese groaned as they watched. Elena swallowed the lump in her throat, and held her baby close, "At least they don't have any suspects."

Then, the image on the TV crackled, and for a fraction of a second, they could've sworn they saw a man's face on the screen. The report continued for a few moments, but then the imaged crackled again, then Elena gasped, and the three of them felt their hearts jump when they saw the grinning face of Benjamin Edwards staring back at them, taking up the entire screen.

"Hello," Edwards said happily, his disturbed grin stretching from ear to ear, "How's everybody doing this morning?" He grinned silently for a moment, as if expecting a response, and then continued. "We interrupt this program to bring you an important announcement! I hope you don't mind, the news is soooooo bo-ring!" He sang. Nate, Elena, and Reese watched silently, and Elena held Juliet tight.

"So I've got a better story for you. There once was a man, who went by the name of Drake. Drake had a long history with some baaaaad people, and was a thorn in their side for many years. But Drake decided to retire, and hung up his guns, naively thinking he had seen the last of them."

The three of them watched in silent nervously as Ben continued.

"Then the bad people returned, and extended an offer to Drake. But Drake thought he could outsmart them, turn down their offer, and be a thorn in their side again," Ben smiled deviously for a moment, and then whispered, "But they had a surprise for him!"

Nate and Elena gasped, and Reese stared in disbelief, when pictures of Nate and Elena popped up on the TV, speaking to the Russian, then running from the scene after he was shot.

"Oooooooooooo, but that's not all!" Ben said giddily.

"Holy shit!" Reese muttered as a picture of himself appeared, running from the parking garage after the shooting.

"That's right Nathan," Ben said, his enthusiastic, storyteller demeanor gone, "You think you're sooo smart, but we are _always_ a step ahead. You should've learned that after all these years!"

Nate felt his knuckles turn white as his clenched fists shook.

"Next time someone offers you a job, it would be wise of you not to get clever again."

Ben laughed for a minute as Elena's eyes filled with tears, David sat in disbelief, and Nate shook with rage.

"Oh, and I heard some great news!" Ben said joyously, "I heard that today's your daughter's first birthday! Congratulations to you and happy birthday to little Juliet Rose Drake! As a parting note, I'd like to recite my _favorite_ variation of an old Irish birthday blessing." Ben grinned, and then continued.

"_May you live a long life  
>Full of gladness and health<br>With a pocket full of gold  
>As the least of your wealth<br>May the dreams you hold dearest  
>Be those which come true…"<em>

Ben paused, giving an evil grin, his voice turning malicious as he continued

"_As the past life of your father  
>Returns to kill you."<em>

Edwards laughed as Reese and the Drakes watched in shock. "Catch you later Nathan!"

The three of them sat stunned as Ben disappeared, and the TV returned to the news, as if nothing happened. After several minutes, Elena broke the silence.

"Who are these people Nate?" She asked, on the verge of tears, "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know who they are," Nate replied, his voice a mixture of anxiety and anger, "But we've got to disappear."

"Where can we go?" Reese asked, "They can put our pictures all over the news!"

"We need to leave the country," Nate replied, "As soon as we can,"

"It'd have to be off the books," Reese piped in, "So they can't track us."

"I've lost touch with almost all of my old contacts," Nate groaned, "We don't have many options."

The three of them put their heads together, trying to think of a quick way to disappear. Then Nate groaned as an idea dawned on him.

"I know where we can go," Nate mumbled half heartedly

"What is it?" Elena asked. Nate leaned in, putting his hands on Elena and David's shoulders, divulging his idea. Elena groaned.

"You have got to be kidding me," she sighed.

_26 hours later_

"Remind me," Reese whispered, walking down a small runway with Nate, Elena and Juliet. "How the hell is this supposed to work?"

"It's _not_ that hard," Nate groaned, "Like I said, none of the tickets are in our names, so we're safe. We just need to act cool, and everything will be fine. Trust me!"

Reese sighed, "I'm not talking about that. I'm just wondering how this cover story of yours is supposed to work!"

"It's not difficult," Nate whispered irritably, "Elena's accompanying me as a journalist, and you're coming along as a cameraman! How tough is that to remember?"

"The guy's met me before! I don't think he'll buy that!"

"You met once, and you barely talked to each other!" Nate argued, "Besides, it doesn't really matter what we tell him, I trust him. The cover story is more of an explanation for everyone else! So can you please trust me?"

"Guess I've got no choice," Reese mumbled, shifting the camera bag on his shoulder as their contact approached them.

"Good morning Nate," Gabriel Finch welcomed, meeting them in front of a small plane, "I'm glad you decided to come!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Happy New Year everyone! In the words of the great Bender Bending Rodriguez: I'm back baby!**

**Sorry it had been so long since the last chapter, time just got away from me. Dealing with things like work, moving, not to mention writer's block, it's been difficult to write more chapters. I actually wrote about five versions of this chapter from scratch, each completely different, but I never felt satisfied with any of them. Maybe I'll repurpose those scenes later.**

"So what do you think?" Victor Sullivan asked one of the customers in his antiques shop, an almost bleach blonde man in a three piece suit who had been bent over one of the shelves, observing the same artifact for the last five minutes.

"Wow," the man said in a friendly tone, turning his head to face Sully, "_That_ is one strange relic."

"Ah, you have great taste," Sully told him, recognizing the piece as one of many Nate had brought him over the years, "That is an interesting little treasure."

"I'll say," the blonde man replied, meticulously inspecting every square inch of the small gold orb, "What do these weird markings mean?"

"You know, the guy who sold it to me told me what they meant," Sully grumbled, racking his brain to remember what Nate had said those odd symbols translated into, "and neither one of us had any idea what this means, but if I remember right, he said it translates as _naughty dog, madman_."

"Naughty dog, madman?" the man repeated methodically, "Well that's about the most cryptic message I've ever heard."

"Me too, and I've heard some doozies," Sully chuckled.

Before he could continue, he was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He pulled his cell out of his pocket, but it wasn't ringing. He excused himself, the blonde man nodding in understanding as Sully walked behind the shop's front counter. He felt slightly confused when he realized that it was his prepaid burner phone ringing.

"Hello?" Sully asked as he picked up the phone.

"Sully it's me," Nate's voice came over the line. Sully could hear the apprehension in his voice.

"Nate? What're you doing calling me on the emergency line, what's wrong?"

"Well," Nate took a deep breath, "The less I tell you, the better, but…" after a long sigh, Nate began to tell him everything.

"Well I'll be go to hell," Victor Sullivan mumbled under his breath, pressing the burner phone to his ear as Nate filled him in on the events of the past few days. He could barely believe what he was hearing, "You guys gonna be alright?"

"I hope so Sully," Nate sighed over the phone, "We should be, as long as we stay low. Don't forget to look into that name for me, okay?"

"Sure kid," Sully replied, "I'll see what the underground has to say about Benjamin Edwards." Sully paused for a moment, searching for something reassuring to say, "And kid, you guys will be fine. I know you'll take good care of each other."

"Thanks Sully," Nate exhaled, "Just take care of yourself. I don't know how badly these guys will want to track me down."

"I'll be fine kid, but I'll keep an eye out," Sully reassured.

He said his goodbyes, and then hung up the phone as he returned his attention back to his antiques shop.

"_Goddamn,"_ Sully thought as he reflected on what Nate told him, _"What the fuck have they been dragged into?" _Pausing for a second, he looked out at the handful of customers milling around his shop, wondering what kind of precautions he should take.

"_Though, I guess a guy that makes the lights go wonky should be easy to see coming,"_ he thought with a chuckle.

He walked back over to the man in the suit, who was just hanging up his own cell phone.

"Sorry about that," Sully told him.

"Oh, don't worry about it," the man in the suit replied with a smile, "I had a business call I had to take." He shook the phone a little to emphasize it before placing it back in his pocket, "I think I'll go ahead and take this piece."

"Fantastic choice my friend," Sully replied, "You won't regret it."

Sully packed up the strange relic into a well-padded box, bringing it up to the front counter so he could ring up the transaction. After paying for the piece, the man in the suit put the box under his arm, thanking Sully as he walked out the door of the shop.

After the man stepped out of the shop, he adjusted the package underneath his arm, pulling his cell phone out of his jacket pocket with his free hand. Hitting speed dial, he held the phone up to his ear.

"Hey, it's me," The man said, his silvery blue eyes growing cold, "Sullivan's a dead end, he doesn't know anything."

He waited for a moment, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone. "Yes, Drake did make contact, just like we thought. Yeah, but I'm telling you, Sullivan doesn't know anything. I blue jacked his phone and listened to the call. He warned him about what was going on, but he didn't come to him for his way out."

The blonde man stopped at the street corner, waiting for a few moments. After a couple of seconds, a black sedan rolled up, and the man promptly took a seat in the back before it drove off.

"Unfortunately for us, Drake was smart," the man in the suit spoke calmly, "He gave Sullivan almost no information, but he did ask for Sullivan to dig for information on Mr. Edwards."

"No I'm not concerned about it," he continued after letting the person on the phone speak, "Do you _really_ think they'll find anything relevant about him? Just worry about finding Drake. If Sullivan didn't give him his way out we need to find out who did."

He hung up the phone, a dark, serious look lingering on his face. After a few moments, he dialed the phone again.

"Mr. Edwards, hi," the man greeted over the phone, "You know those two men you told to watch over the Drakes?"

"Yes?" came a simple, expectant reply.

"Well I want you to find them, right now, and figure out _exactly_ what the hell happened. And if they don't have any good news," he paused for dramatic effect, "kill them."

He could practically hear Ben grin on the other end of the phone. "You read my mind."

* * *

><p>Nate couldn't sleep.<p>

Elena had gone to bed hours ago, the hotel room dark. Nothing bad had happened; the day had passed by uneventfully. It had been relatively boring actually. There was a brief orientation led by Finch, discussing proper behavior and etiquette for all the students during their stay and for their time at the dig. Afterwards, there was a short tour of the local area, followed by the assignment of hotel rooms. All the other students shared rooms together, but Finch had arranged a separate room for Nate and Elena, understanding that Nate wouldn't be too keen on the idea of his wife and daughter sharing a room with several college kids. Not a single event since they had left Miami warranted the level of paranoia that Nate was feeling, but he still couldn't shake it. He still couldn't get rest to find him. So he just sat there, the events of the past few days on repeat in his head as he kept a silent, unwavering vigil over the crib in front of him, Juliet sleeping peacefully inside.

"Nate?" he heard Elena's sleepy voice call out. He turned to see her shuffling over to him, rubbing her tired eyes, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed as she took a seat next to him, "I'm just trying to make sense of this situation, I guess."

"I don't know," Elena responded, "We'll figure something out, we always do."

Nat put an arm around Elena's waist as the couple sat together in silence, watching their daughter sleep, not a care in the world. Nate pulled her in close, prompting Elena to rest her head on his shoulders. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen him so on edge, so paranoid. He had always tried to play everything off, pretending he was fine, but this was different. He used to live for the high risk life. She looked down at Juliet, who cooed in her sleep, shifting in her crib.

"_The danger's just not welcome anymore,"_ she thought.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Nate's gaze popped to the door immediately. Before Elena knew it, Nate had snapped to attention, drawing a small Walther pistol from his waist band, holding it high as he approached the door.

"_It's like he expects there to be an army on the other side."_ Elena's concern increased as she watched him approach the door. She knew she had never seen him this bad before.

Nate held the gun in his right hand, aiming it as he grabbed the door knob with his left. He cocked the hammer back as he turned the knob, Elena watching from the other side of the room. Nate took a deep breath and pulled the door open, the sights of his PPK aimed squarely at David Reese.

"Easy hoss," David sighed in a half scolding, half concerned tone, his hands held up in faux surrender, "It's just me."

Elena gave a sigh of relief when she saw David, and Nate de cocked his gun, giving his own relieved exhale as he engaged the safety, lowering the pistol to his side.

"You know, if I had known that I would end up staring down its barrel, I wouldn't have bothered to get you that gun while you were busy with your little orientation" Reese cracked, inviting himself in.

"Sorry about that man," Nate apologized quietly, returning the pistol to his waistband at the small of his back.

"No problem, it's not like it's the first time one of us has pointed a gun at the other," David countered with a smirk, "Sorry if I woke y'all up, but we didn't really get any chances to talk earlier."

"It's okay David," Elena replied, stepping up to greet him, "We were already up. What did you want to talk about?"

"I was wondering if we know what our next step is yet Blondie," Reese replied, "This dig ain't gonna last forever."

"We're still working on that," Nate piped in, his voice weary, "I've got Sully looking into the guys who're after us, but that's about it."

"And you've got no idea who these guys are?"

Nate sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "A few, but nothing that really helps us right now."

Reese groaned in frustration, running his fingers through his straw blonde hair. "So what do we do now?"

"Let's just take this one step at a time," Elena piped in, "There's not really anything we can do right now. Let's just keep low and see if Sully finds anything that can help us."

"Alright," Reese conceded, "But if things go south again, we gotta be ready to get outta dodge." He paused for a moment as the Drakes nodded in agreement, noticing the bags under Nate's eyes. The past few days were obviously wearing on him. He put a hand on Nate's shoulder, guiding him to the other side of the room.

"Seriously brother," David Reese said, speaking in a hushed tone, "You need to relax."

"I _am_ relaxed," Nate replied earnestly, keeping his voice down, mirroring his friend's tone.

"You kiddin' me _worry stone_?" Reese cracked, "You're so damn tense, _I _can feel it down the hall. Why the hell do you think I came down here?"

"I'm fine," Nate insisted, a smile spreading across his face, "It's just," he sighed for a moment, unconsciously rubbing his hand through his hair, "Been a long time is all. Things have changed"

"Well you better get your head in the game," Reese told him, the patronizing tone gone from his voice, "Or have you forgotten? In this game, tense gets us killed." He raised his eyebrows, his expression conveying the seriousness of his message.

"This isn't a game Reese!" Nate replied in quiet argument. He looked over at Elena, who had gone to sit by Juliet's crib. "This is my life! More importantly, my family's lives, and I can't let anything happen to them!"

"Well then, you better be damn sure you can do what needs to be done when the time comes," Reese cautioned, "'Cause whether you got into this situation by choice, or were dragged into it kicking and screaming, doesn't change what you need to do."

Nate sighed. His friend had a point. He nodded in concession, and the two of them walked back over to Elena, who was singing quietly to her sleeping daughter. She looked up at the pair as they approached

"We can continue this talk in the morning," Reese continued, concern for his friend evident in his voice, "We _all_ need to get some sleep." He stared at Nate for emphasis.

"Yeah," Nate nodded, "We'll figure something out tomorrow."

David nodded, giving a hug to both Nate and Elena before exiting the room. The couple sat in silence for a moment, and then the two of them proceeded over to the hotel bed. Nate took a seat on his side, setting his PPK on the bedside table.

"So what'd David have to say that he felt he had to pull you away for?" She asked.

Nate gave a weak smile, looking over his shoulder to face her, trying to articulate his thoughts. "He basically told me I'd better pull my head out of my ass, and be ready for the worst case scenario."

Elena let out a small chuckle, "That sounds like David," she paused, and then leaned over towards her husband, cupping his cheek in her hand, "But seriously Nate, we'll be fine. You've always come through for us before, and I know you won't let us down now."

She thought back over the years she had known Nate. "Besides," she continued reassuringly, pulling him in close, "I think everyone you know owes you credit for saving their lives at least once."

"True," Nate chuckled, allowing himself to fall back onto the bed as Elena laid down next to him, draping an arm across his chest. "Just like I owe _you_ credit for saving my ass on many an occasion."

"Well," Elena replied, a playful smile dancing across her face, "It is an ass worth saving!"

Nate chuckled, and pulled Elena in for a kiss. A low moan escaped her lips as they parted.

"That it is," Nate chuckled, his cocky grin plastered across his face as he lowered his head to the pillow, "That it is."

* * *

><p>"We may need to have a talk with Finch about what classifies as a mid-size dig," Elena cracked as she and Nate drove up to the dig site.<br>The couple stepped out of the car, looking out over the sprawling grounds ahead of them. Elena retrieved her notebook and tape recorder from the car, and Nate placed a set of aviators on his face as they entered the site.

"This may just be the biggest archaeological dig I've ever _legally_ gotten into," Nate joked, his cocky grin growing. He looked at the sign by the entrance, noting the dig's main benefactor

"_The Vincent Perez Foundation?"_ Nate frowned, _"Why does that name sound familiar?"_

"Good morning Nate!" a voice caught his attention, and he turned to see Gabriel approaching them. The day was still very young, and already his friend and teacher was covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust.

"A mid-size dig huh?" Nate smirked, peering over the top of his sunglasses at his friend.

"About that," Finch replied with a subtle smile, "Apparently they were given a boost in funding recently, allowing them to greatly increase the dig size. Come on, the other students are over here."

Gabe turned, leading Nate and Elena through the grounds. They both observed the site with wonder. There were tents and canopies of all shapes and sizes, pits and trenches being dug, and every kind of excavation equipment imaginable. Archaeologist were unearthing pottery fragments and arrowheads, carefully measuring and documenting everything.

"So where's David?" Gabe turned to ask, "I thought he was your cameraman for this story."

"Oh, I didn't need him today," Elena replied, "I thought I'd take care of some initial interviews today, get all the basics first."

"Yeah," Nate chuckled, "We've got him doing a favor for us today."

"_Sorry, not used to kids," Reese had said, holding his hands up defensively. "We don't tend to work well together."_

"_Aw come on Reese," Nate chided, passing a crying Juliet to her mom, "When you two first met, you guys were just adorable together!"_

"_She puked on me!" Reese exclaimed, earning a chuckle from both Elena and Nate, "Ruined my lucky western shirt too," he continued, grumbling under his breath._

_Elena rocked Juliet on her shoulder, only marginally successful in calming her. "You got puked on while you were wearing it David," she chuckled, "How lucky could it be?"_

"_Oh, now you want to start blondie?" Reese countered indignantly. He couldn't help but admit her point though, allowing a smile to stretch across his face. "Besides, I thought y'all wanted me to play camera guy at this dig."_

"_Please, just watch Juliet for today," Elena pleaded._

_As much as he wanted to say no, Elena had a way of getting to him, "Fine, I'll watch your dang kid," Reese grumbled, throwing up his hands in defeat._

"Who's paying for this dig Gabe?" Elena asked, her notepad out, her mind in journalist mode.

"Well, I couldn't name them all," Gabe replied, "There's a multitude of donors contributing to this dig, but they're all channeled through the Victor Perez Foundation. The name struck a chord in Nate's memory again, but as he racked his brain, he couldn't for the life of him place it.

Elena made a note, and then looked up again. "Well who's in charge of the dig?"

"That would be the foundation's creator; you'll meet her in a minute."

"_Her?"_ Nate frowned, the pieces slowly coming together in his head. But before he finished connecting the dots in his head, a voice derailed his train of thought.

"Nathan Drake?" a woman called out, disbelief in her voice. "What's it been, fourteen years?"

Nate recognized the voice, turning at the sound of his name. "Chase?!" he stood shocked as Marisa Chase came up to greet him.

"Oh, good morning Dr. Chase," Finch interjected, "Elena, this is Marisa Chase, the dig coordinator." He paused, catching the silence between Nate and Chase a few moments late, "Have you two met before?"

"I was about to ask the same question," Elena agreed, sharing Gabe's confusion.

"I'm an, old friend of Nate's" Chase explained, extending a hand to Elena, "As Professor Finch said, I'm Marisa, you can call me Chase."

"Elena Fisher-Drake," Elena introduced herself, shaking Chase's hand.

Nate stood silent, unsure of what to do. Gabe noticed the tension on his face, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him aside as the two women got acquainted.

"So how in the world do you know Dr. Chase?" Finch whispered.

Nate stood in awkward silence for a moment before simply answering, "Ex-girlfriend."

"Oh," Gabe replied, a sympathetic frown spreading across his face. Without another word he gave Nate a pat on the shoulder, as if to say good luck, and walked away to the student tent.

**Sorry you had to wait almost a year for another chapter! I hope you enjoy it! And as always, please give me constructive criticism! Review, review, review! I'd love to know what you think of the story, the pacing, my portrayal of the characters, and my original characters. Speaking of OCs, this marks the second appearance of the man in the suit, the villain who's right under everyone's nose. I intentionally minimalized Ben's time in this chapter, for I felt that he had taken up too much of the past few chapters. But if you'd like to see him more, just let me know. And I promise, I won't make you wait another year for the next chapter!**


	9. Chapter 9

Nate heard gunfire ringing through the air.

Standing amongst the tents that littered the dig site, Nate could hear the ringing of shots. He spun on his heels, kicking up dust as he tried to figure out what was going on. His heart pounded as he felt a rush of adrenaline. The noise of an explosion echoed in the distance

"Nate!" he heard a distant voice cry out, calling out for help, "NATE!"

Nate shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. He could feel his right hand unconsciously gripping the small pistol tucked into the back of his waistband. His breathing became shallow as he heard the voice cry out, closer this time.

"Nate! Help!"

His heart sank when he recognized the voice. It was Elena's. His grip tightened on his concealed pistol as he started to head towards Elena's voice. Rounding the corner of one of the tents, he nearly collided with Marisa Chase. His grip released from his gun, concealing it underneath his shirt.

"Whoa cowboy," Chase chuckled, her hands held up to keep him from running into her. Her expression became more serious as she looked at him. "Are you okay?"

Nate's face was slightly pale, with a tinge of sweat beaded across his forehead. He blinked several times, almost oblivious to her question. All of the noise was gone. There was no gunfire, and he couldn't hear Elena's voice. The air was still, peaceful. It took him a moment to realize that Chase had repeated her question.

"Nate?" she asked, concerned, "Are you okay?"

Nate took a deep breath, regaining his senses. "Yeah," he mumbled, trying to reapply his confident visage, with only partial success. "Just… old ghosts."

Chase placed a hand on his shoulder. The color had returned to his face, but she was still worried. "You, uh, want to talk about it?" she asked uncertainly, not wanting to pry. She had seen a lot of terrible things during her short time with Nate, so she could only imagine the weight of all the experiences that he carried with him, from all the years both before, and since, they met.

"No," he said wearily, sitting down in a folding canvas chair. "Where's Elena?"

Chase handed him a bottle of water, "She's interviewing one of the lead archaeologists. Do you want me to go get her?" Chase knew that Nate could be a bit of a closed book, but she hoped he could at least talk to Elena.

"No, it's fine," Nate replied with a small wave of his hand. He tried to regain his composure, putting a small smile on his face. "I just need something, anything to do. What's going on with the dig right now?"

"Well," Chase replied, "You wandered off right as Gabriel finished his opening little presentation, and then they called a lunch break, so there's not much going on right now."

Nate sighed, closing his eyes. He couldn't believe that he had slipped like that. Wandering off during his friend's speech, putting his hand on his gun? He was really wishing Elena wasn't busy.

"So, you're really retired from treasure hunting?" Chase asked, sensing the awkward silence between them.

Nate looked at her, a trace of a smile glancing across his face as she sat next to him. "Yeah," he nodded, "About eight years now."

"Never thought I'd see the day when the infamous Nathan Drake would hang up his guns." Chase joked, hoping the conversation would help him feel better.

"Well I never thought I'd _live_ to see it," Nate cracked quietly, his small smile conveying how glad he was to be proven wrong. He took a drink from his water bottle. "Never thought I'd find someone who'd pull me out of it all."

Chase smiled as they sat quietly, "Tell me about her."

Nate paused at this request. Sensing his hesitation, Chase continued. "Relax Nate; we broke up what, fifteen years ago? And as I recall, it was completely mutual. So there's no need to feel awkward about talking to your ex about your family."

"I guess not," Nate chuckled, his left thumb unconsciously fiddling with his wedding ring, "Just, wondering where to begin is all."

So Nate ultimately began at the beginning, telling the story of how he and Elena found Sir Francis Drake's empty coffin, though he chose to omit how his had originally intended to use her and her show as simply a means to an end. He told her about El Dorado, the rough patches in his and Elena's relationship, her near death in Shambala, their wedding, estrangement, and ultimate reunion after Iram of the Pillars. He had slightly edited some parts, for privacy as well as general believability. She had been on a few adventures as well, but Chase had never seen anything truly unbelievable like he and Elena had witnessed.

So as Chase heard it, there were only crazed natives on the El Dorado island, not creatures, there were no crazy yeti like monsters guarding Shambala, merely what an insane man believed to be a method of gaining immortality, though that had remained unconfirmed.

"So, I guess it took me a few times," Nate finished, "But I finally learned what was really important in my life."

Chase wasn't sure what to say, so she simply stated, "You two are lucky to have found each other."

"Yeah," Nate smiled, "She saved my life."

"Sounds like you both saved each other about a dozen times."

Nate took a drink from his water bottle, and then stood up to rejoin the other students. "That's not what I meant."

And with that he walked away, leaving Chase to realize the meaning of his solemn statement.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, David Reese downed a rather large mug of coffee, staring intently at a thick book on the table in front of him, with large, almost comical glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He turned away from the book, returning his gaze to the large M40 sniper rifle on the table in front of him. Picking up one of many tools he had acquired during a stint working in a military armory, he continued his minor adjustments to the weapon. Spread out on the table was a vast assortment of armorer's tools, weapons cleaning gear, and small bits of cut foam from a carrying case.<p>

"Piece of shit," he mumbled, bringing his gaze in close to look at some rust on one of the smaller components of the weapon. "God damn it."

He grabbed the small dropper bottle which held his cleaning solution, and was about to apply a few drops when he paused, a suspicious look darting across his face. He wasn't sure why, but something didn't feel right. He glanced to each side cautiously.

"Who's there?" he called out, his left hand slowly unholstering the 1911 Colt from his hip. No reply. The room was quiet except for an old Garth Brooks CD he had playing quietly. He peered slowly over his rifle, and for one of the only times in his life found himself feeling like a paranoid fool as he noticed Juliet watching him intently.

His shoulders slumped, and he let out a sigh as he relaxed back in his chair, feeling equally relieved, disappointed, and completely foolish as the one year old watched him from across the room. Juliet stood against the wall of her crib, staring at him quietly, a slightly curious look on her face. Reese began to feel slightly awkward, completely uncertain of what to do. He tried to get back to work on his rifle, but he could practically feel Juliet staring at him.

"God," he grumbled, looking back up. Juliet's inquisitive stare remained unchanged. For the better part of two minutes, the pair remained locked in what must have been, in Reese's opinion, the strangest, most awkward staring contest ever.

"_Of all time,"_ he thought, raising one eyebrow. He remained motionless for a while longer before finally breaking the uncertain silence.

"What?!" he blurted out, lacking any grace whatsoever. The outburst must have amused Juliet, because she instantly started to giggle, "God, what're you staring at?" Reese groaned, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was talking to a baby. Juliet still giggled. Maybe, like her mother, she thought it was funny how his southern accent would get worse when he was upset.

Reese ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. After a moment he rose from his chair, and then sat in the couch next to Juliet's crib.

"What could you possibly need?" he moaned, his frustration toned down, though still entirely out of place for his audience, "You have all your toys, your little baby monitor," he pointed at several of the items that littered, or more appropriately, filled, Juliet's crib. She was, in fact, surrounded by everything that could be considered her things, "I even took you for a little, uh, field trip earlier," he finished awkwardly, a sideways glance given to the rifle on the table as he remembered their earlier excursion.

"_Better not tell Nate or Elena about that."_

A look of dismay stretched across his face as he envisioned what Elena would do to him if she knew where they had gone.

"Yeah… scratch that last one," he said seriously, "That…uh, didn't happen, you understand?"

Reese began to feel like his was the most hilarious entertainment ever, because all he got in reply was more laughter. He threw his hands up in defeat, and then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

Nate was glad to be back to work helping out at the dig. He hated it when things got too quiet, too still. But as long as his mind was occupied, he was okay. He was definitely feeling better than he was a short time before. He knelt down next to one of the dig's many archaeologists, taking meticulous notes about the excavation process, how nothing was ignored, every detail no matter how small needed to be documented. It was night and day compared to his old exploits.

"_Go in, take all the shiny stuff, and get out before something weird kills you."_

He had been to plenty of digs, both legally and illegally, and was well aware of all that was involved, but he had never been an actual participant of the process before. Then, as his tutor was explaining how even a broken tiny piece of pottery had to be measured, documented, and noted where it was found exactly in a gridded dig area, Nate's phone buzzed. He excused himself as he withdrew the phone from his pocket, and frowned as he gazed at what he hoped was a sarcastic text.

_I hate you. So much._

Nate chuckled slightly as he sat back down next to the small patch of dug up earth.

"Anything important?" his tutor asked inquisitively.

"No," Nate smiled, "Just a message from a friend who's watching my daughter. He's a great guy, but he is just utterly hopeless with kids.

The archaeologist chuckled, "I know the type."

Just then, Nate's phone buzzed again. He looked down at it, excepting another hilariously frustrated text from Reese. But what he saw was a short message from Sully.

_Call me when you can. I've got news._

Meanwhile, on the other side of the dig, Elena was catching up with Gabe. Though it was largely more a journalist conducting an interview than two friends catching up with each other. They sat in one of the many beige canvas tents that littered the expansive area, discussing Gabe's connection to the dig, and the opportunity it presented for all of the students that got to come.

"Well, I'm involved with several archaeological organizations," Finch told Elena as she took notes, her Dictaphone recording his words, "Not just the Vincent Perez Foundation, but many other historical societies and groups dedicated to archaeological preservation. I like to keep involved with the historical community, staying abreast of the goings on around the world." He took a sip of his coffee, and then took a moment to wipe the fog off of his glasses. This action served dual purpose, also removing a film of dirt that still resided there. Elena repressed a chuckle as he removed them, noticing that a dirt outline of his glasses remained in their place

"There's just, _so_ much more going on in the world of historical discovery than people realize," Finch continued enthusiastically, replacing the circular wireframes on his face. "And when I heard that the Foundation was overseeing this dig, I spoke to a few colleagues, and they welcomed the opportunity to influence a group of aspiring archaeologists and historians."

Elena barely had to say anything since the interview started. Though he wasn't incredibly animated, and had a tendency to speak softly, he had a captivating speaking voice. Like the kind you could you to make a career out of recording audio versions of other people's books. She was about to ask another question when Chase walked in.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked, her gaze fixed on Elena. Elena was perplexed by the uncomfortable look in her eyes; as if she wasn't sure she should say what she wanted to.

"Sure," she replied, returning Chase's gaze with a mixed look of confusion and curiosity, "I'm sorry Gabe, could you give us a minute?"

"Sure," Gabe said politely, and stepped out without another word. Elena waited to speak again until Gabe was gone and the tent flap had closed.

"What is it?"

"Uh," Chase started, "Is Nate okay?"

The question stunned Elena. She stared at Chase for a moment, assessing how much of her husband's personal problems she should confide in a woman she had just met that morning.

* * *

><p>On another continent, the blonde man in the suit sat quietly on the couch in a dimly lit apartment, thinking. He looked around at the furnishings. It was a nice, if somewhat minimalistic apartment. He considered the ramifications of his plan, the potential risk, and deemed it acceptable. His cold, icy eyes narrowed to slits when he thought about what he could gain. It could actually be a "two birds with one stone" scenario. Taking a deep breath, he retrieved his phone from the end table, and dialed a number .<p>

"Yes sir?" Benjamin answered. There was a decent amount of background noise, but his voice came in clear. It sounded like he was walking down a busy street.

"I got a call from a contact of mine," the blonde man replied, "He says that Sullivan is no longer the only one looking for you. Apparently, there's some noise coming from some marshal named Gutterson, which I'm assuming is at the behest of Drake's friend the sniper."

"And that changes things how?"

"We need to cut this off at the knees. One person employing amateurs is one thing, but when a deputy marshal starts doing favors for old army buddies, there's too much risk of this making its way back to me."

"So what's the plan?"

The man in the suit could practically feel Ben's desire for the plan to involve violence.

"We apply more pressure," he replied, "I'm working on something on my end, but I need you to find Sullivan, force him to tell you anything he might know."

"Way ahead of you sir."

And with that, Ben hung up the phone, placing it back in his pocket as he stepped into a sports bar, taking a seat at the bar next to Victor Sullivan.

"Hello Victor," Ben said with malicious glee, his grin growing. Sully turned, and by the time he realized who he was talking to, a hand was around his neck, and his feet were dangling off the ground. Several patrons fled the bar.

"Tell me where Nathan is," Ben growled.

"I ain't telling you a goddamn thing," Sully choked.

Ben was about to reply, when he heard a shotgun pump. His grin disappeared, and his head slowly turned, a stone cold look on his face as he saw the bartender aim a gun at him. He looked around, and saw that several of the remaining patrons had risen to their feet, some drawing weapons, some just improvising with beer bottles and stools. A glint of excitement danced across his face as he was surrounded by the bar patrons.

"Now it's a party."

The man in the suit had gone back to waiting. Waiting didn't bother him. It gave him time to think, to plan. He sat quietly, practically meditating in the dark room. He closed his eyes, all of his senses alert as he sat. He didn't have to wait long. The silence was broken by the sound of the door unlocking. As it creaked open, his hand glided onto the grip of the sig sauer in his lap. He took a deep, silent breath, opening his eyes as he heard two voices enter the apartment.

"C'mon, why don't you want to go? It'll be fun," a woman's voice echoed, her accent distinct.

"_There's one."_ The blonde man confirmed to himself.

"Well if you remember, the last time we were there, I got shot in the ass. So I'd prefer somewhere else," a man replied.

"_And two."_

He raised his gun, but only as much as necessary, and cocked back the hammer as Chloe Frazer and Charlie Cutter walked into the room, hand in hand. They jumped at the sound, turning to face him. The barrel of his gun was aimed directly at them.

"You," Charlie whispered, stunned.

"Hey, Cutter," The man in the suit replied plainly, "Been a _long_ time."

* * *

><p>Back at the dig, Chase sat silently, listening intently to what Elena was saying.<p>

"I keep trying," Elena continued, "But he refuses to get any help. He refuses to talk to anybody about it but me. He says Juliet and I the only help he needs."

"And he's been like this since you met?" Chase finally responded.

"No, he started having, uh, issues about seven years ago," Elena replied quietly. She still felt hesitant about sharing aspects of Nate's life that he hadn't divulged himself.

"So around the time he, well, retired then?" Chase asked, "At least not long after."

Elena nodded.

"So what happened? Because that's not exactly the kind of life you walk away from scot free."

"He didn't," Elena retorted, "He was in prison for almost two years."

Chase's eyebrows rose, she wasn't sure what to say.

"Not long after Nate and I returned home from Yemen, he was arrested by the FBI," She recounted, "Some old warrants for museum robbery and other thefts caught up to him. We had just bought our house. We were only living there for a few months before they took him away."

Chase listened silently as Elena continued, "I didn't get to see him for months, and when I was finally able to he looked terrible. Nate was no stranger to the dangers of prison, so I knew something else was bothering him. It took hours to get him to even open up to me."

She paused for a moment, pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, took a deep breath, and continued. "So I tried to visit him as often as possible, give him someone to talk to. He said it was better when I was around, when he wasn't just alone with his thoughts."

"So how did he get out of jail?"

"He had been in about eighteen months," Elena replied solemnly, "When he was approached by an FBI agent. Due to his long history as an accomplished thief, he was asked several questions about a series of complicated antiquities thefts. At first, Nate thought they were trying to pin old, unsolved cases on him. But they explained that the cases were recent, and they wanted to use his expertise to help catch the thief. Nate ultimately led to them to the culprit, and a deal was made for his early release."

"How did he find the thief?" Chase asked.

"The thefts covered a wide area of the country, but a specific type of antiquity. Based on the pattern of the thefts, along with what was stolen, Nate was able to determine the most likely places that the thief could sell what he stole. He narrowed his list down to three places, and the feds watched all three, and Nate was ultimately proven correct. Not long after he was released, several of the museums that had been robbed contacted us, offering Nate jobs as a security consultant."

"So ever since he stopped robbing museums," Chase commented, "He's been using his expertise to help museums prevent being robbed?"

"And occasionally help federal law enforcement catch particularly talented thieves," Elena confirmed, "I'm actually kind of surprised you hadn't heard about his new job. He's also worked as a security consultant for several archaeological digs in dangerous areas."

"So, what, He's like the Frank Abagnale Jr. of treasure hunters?" Chase quipped.

"He doesn't really like to make that comparison," Elena chuckled, "But basically, yes."

Benjamin Edwards' day had gone better than he thought. Going to a bar to interrogate an old man was likely to be boring. But when it instigated a fight with almost everyone in the bar? Now _that_, that was a fun time in his book. He took a deep breath, stretching out his arms wide. The bar smelled great, that smell of fresh blood. His white dress shirt was untucked and splashed with wet crimson. His slick hair had become a wild curly mane, and a wild look glimmered in his black eyes. Surrounding him, adorning the floor, the bar, and tables were at least half a dozen bodies. How many of them were dead, Ben couldn't say. He wasn't really paying attention. Though he had to admit, it wasn't difficult for him to guess that the man lying on the table with the leg of a stool through his chest was not waking up in the hospital. Similar sights decorated the rest of the bar. Ben took a moment to appreciate each one, like pieces of art in a gallery. Then he heard a groan, and remembered why he was there. He turned slowly, deliberately, and saw Sully pulling himself up on the bar.

Ben strode across the room, grabbing Sully by the hair, and slamming the side of his head into the bar. Holding Sully's head in place with his left hand, and grabbed the neck of a broken bottle, with his right.

"Now," Ben growled, the bottle jagged edge closing in on Sully's eye, "Tell me where Drake is."

"I can't tell you what I don't know," Sully groaned weakly, his adrenaline pounding as the glass came closer.

"Then start with what you do know," Ben replied in a condescending sing-song, "Who did he meet, where would he go?"

Sully grumbled imperceptibly. Ben leaned in closer.

"Go... to… hell."

Ben sighed, "Well, hopefully you can pull off an eye patch."

He started to draw back the bottle neck, when he was interrupted by his phone buzzing. He let out a groan of childish frustration before retrieving the phone from his bloody suit jacket. He looked at the screen, which said he had received a picture message. He opened it, and when he looked at the contents, he started to laugh.

"Last chance Victor," he continued after a moment, "You might not care what I do to you, but you will tell me what I want to know."

"The hell I will," Sully spat.

Ben said nothing, just held the phone for Sully to see, and smiled as all the indignation and resistance left his face.

"You will tell me," Ben smiled, "Or my boss will kill Miss Frazer," He looked at the phone again, and chuckled at the picture of the gun pressed to Chloe's temple, with Charlie cuffed to a radiator in the background.

"You can imagine what will happen to Mr. Cutter if you still don't comply," Ben continued venomously, " I know I can."

He held the photo an inch away from Sully's face. "So, how do I find Nathan Drake?"

Sully remained quiet for a moment, before finally giving up. "He said he ran into an old friend, Marisa Chase."

Ben chuckled, "Thank you for your service Mr. Sullivan."

And without another word, he slammed Sully's head against the bar. As Sully slumped to the ground, Ben strolled out of the bar, whistling Elena's favorite lullaby.

_Two years later_

Nate's head pounded. He could feel the blood dried in his hair. He slowly came back to consciousness, but only his right eye would open. He tried to blink a few times, but his left eye was swollen shut. He could still smell blood as he tried to breathe. The blood that had soaked his shirt was partially dried, but still fairly fresh. He had been leaned up against the wall, and the room he now occupied was new. Very similar, in that it smelled of mold and death, but still different in several ways. There were no restraints keeping him in place this time. He strained to examine his surroundings, but every part of his body screamed in protest. It even hurt to keep his right eye held open. He tried to stand, but only made it about a quarter of the way before slumping back down. Then, a familiar voice again broke the silence, and Nate felt his pulse go through the roof.

"What's the matter Nathan?" the voice called out with a hint of condescension, "Having a little trouble?"

His adrenaline surging, Nate bolted to his feet, a look on his face as if he'd seen a ghost. His whole body screamed out, but he didn't notice. The only thing he could notice was the man sitting across from him. Several conflicting emotions overtook him as he locked his gaze on David Reese.

"You should've known you hadn't seen the last of me."

**Well, first off, I apologize for breaking my promise about not making you wait another year for another chapter. But in my defense, it had been quite an eventful year. I was given a new assignment, which resulted in me being sent to an intense seven week school, followed by my being relocated to South America (If I'd know I'd end up in Bolivia, I would've set this story there as opposed to Brazil). A few months later, I received word that my stepfather had passed, so I returned to the states for that. Not long after I returned, we became very short handed at work, resulting in the workload doubling. Then, on New Year's day, I was told my mom needed open heart surgery, and I was called back to the states again. My mom's fine, and I'm not saying this to make anyone feel bad for me, but it has been difficult to find time to write. I have to admit, it does feel good to return to this story, and as always, please tell me how I'm doing. And yes, I did make another Justified reference. I don't want this to become a true crossover, but I like the idea of David's history being tied to that world.**


	10. Chapter 10

Nate was in no condition to fight. He had barely regained consciousness from the injuries he'd sustained at the hands of Benjamin Edwards and his men. Now he had awoken to find himself face to face with a man he'd known longer than his own wife, a man he had held as one of his oldest and closest friends. And at that moment, David Reese could not have cared what condition his old friend was in.

"You don't look so good Nate," Reese growled; landing a blow to Nate's cheekbone that collapsed him to the ground. As he struggled to regain his senses, he felt the weight of David's boot pressing against his chest, his old friend leaning down to speak.

"You've had this coming for a long time," Reese taunted, leaning his weight down on Nate's sternum, "You should've known I wouldn't die so easy you stupid-"

Before he could finish, Nate grabbed his foot, and managed to wrench him off, pushing Reese to the floor. Nate stood up as quickly as he could manage, trying to get space between the two of them. He needed space to think, to get a better grasp on the situation.

"Have you…" Nate wheezed, wincing through cracked ribs, "Been with… with them… the… whole time? "

As Reese approached, Nate tried to swing a punch, doing his best to defend himself. But he was far from peak condition, and was struggling to keep his wounds from getting the better of him. Reese caught the punch effortlessly in his hand, twisting Nate's wrist as he put pressure on the small bones of his hand.

"Behave Nathan," Reese replied coldly, smirking as Nate went to one knee, "And to answer your question, I'm right where you and _your choices_ landed me. Besides, they're better friends than you are."

And then, as he felt any resistance fade, Reese let Nate's hand go, allowing his prey to take a moment of respite.

"Glad we know who's in charge here."

"What…the hell," Nate groaned, cradling his hand, "Are you talking about? Why are you here?"

As the words left Nate's mouth, a flash of anger overtook David's eyes. And then, faster than Nate could even react, Reese had him pinned to the wall, the bony edge of his forearm pressing into Nate's throat.

"You know exactly why you piece of shit! Reese exploded, "It was your fault! Everything that's happened is because we followed YOU!"

As Nate struggled to maintain consciousness, he struggled to get free. But Reese responded by applying more pressure, pushing Nate up the wall, causing his feet to slowly rise off the ground. As Nate struggled for breath, he felt his ears ring and his vision begin to fade, barely making out David's words.

"-BELIEVED IN YOU!-….-IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!"

_Two Years Prior_

"Hate you…hate you both," David grumbled, not even lifting his head off of the pillow.

Elena couldn't help but chuckle at David as she walked into the room, Nate close behind. David was face down on the bed, his shoes and socks strewn across the floor, and his shirt soaking in the sink. Both Nate and Elena found themselves smiling as they spotted Juliet, asleep and snuggled up against David on the bed. Nate pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly snapping a picture.

David let out a long groan as he heard the phone camera capture the image. "You…dick," he grumbled, still not removing his face from the pillow.

Elena tried her best not to laugh as she surveyed the room. The baby powder was spilled across the carpet, with powder dusting several of Juliet's toys, along with one of David's books, a hard back copy of Hemmingway's _The Sun Also Rises_ bent and damaged in the corner. As long as they had known each other, Elena was still always surprised by the sophistication of his taste in reading material, though whether that judgment said more about him or about her, she wasn't certain.

"Did you seriously get puked on again?" Elena smiled, looking at the blue t shirt floating in the sink. Nate burst out laughing at the question, unable to contain himself.

David groaned, being as careful as possible not to wake Juliet as he rolled over, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Guess again," he retorted, giving a tired smile, eliciting greater laughter from Nate. "Swear that kid's got it in for me."

"Aww come on David," Elena replied, half patronizingly, "She loves you."

David laughed, rolling his eyes, "Oh yeah," he cracked, giving a large smile, "She's gonna love me to death." He chuckled for a moment, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "And if that's how she shows love, I'd hate to see what she does to you."

"C'mon David, she's just a baby," Elena replied, "She doesn't know any better."

"Yeah," Nate chimed in, finally controlling his laughter, "You act like she's got some agenda against you."

"Well, whatever the case may be," David shrugged, reaching into his bag, "Seeing as how the baby's asleep, I don't know about you responsible folk, but I'm gonna have a drink."

He retrieved a bottle of whisky from his bag, followed by three small glasses. He set the three glasses out on the small table next to the bed, pouring the amber liquid into each. After each glass had been filled, he nudged one slightly towards Elena and one towards Nate, and then brought the third one towards himself. The trio picked up their glasses, giving a small toast. Nate brought the glass towards his lips, but before it made contact, he felt Elena's hand snake in and take the glass from him. Nate looked slightly hurt as he saw his wife giving him a scolding look.

"Aw c'mon Elena," Nate groaned," It's just one drink. I've been doing great."

"For twenty months Nate, I know" Elena replied, "And I'm really proud of you, but the answer's no."

Reese couldn't help but chuckle as Elena drank Nate's drink, followed by her own. But his face immediately straightened as he earned his own glare from Elena, making him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"Yeah, the hell were you thinking?" Reese spat, covering his own ass, "I didn't pour that drink for you."

Nate sat there, confused and slightly slack jawed at the sudden ganging up. "Whatever," he sighed, "Fine. We've got more important things to talk about"

* * *

><p>Elsewhere, opera music filled the air of a small, sparsely furnished apartment. It consumed the space, an enthusiastic performance which almost completely drowned out the ringing phone. The phone rang for a few moments before the music stopped, accompanied by the small scratch of the needle being lifted from a record. A man with short hair and a neatly trimmed beard in a button down shirt and blue silk tie walked across the room, placing a half full glass of red wine on the small end table as he picked up the small cell phone.<p>

"Sir?" the man answered simply.

"The situation is evolving Abraham," a man's voice replied in a calm drawl, "I believe we'll soon need your help."

"To help ensure Drake make's the right choices?" Abraham replied dryly, removing his tie with his free hand.

"He'll follow the right path," the voice on the phone retorted, "I just need you to make sure he knows the way."

* * *

><p>"The hell's that supposed to mean, he's dead?" David asked, almost shouting.<p>

"That's what Sully told me," Nate replied as Elena gestured for David to quiet down, pointing towards a sleeping Juliet. "He got an autopsy and everything. On all known records, Benjamin Edwards is dead."

"Do we at least know who he was?" Elena inquired, "It might give us a clue to who he is now."

"Benjamin Edwards," Nate replied, "Was a professor."

David raised an eyebrow, "Never woulda thunk it," he replied, "I'd have guessed either terrorist or circus clown."

"Please don't bring up clowns." Nate grumbled, "As I was saying, he was a professor of medieval history at Oxford, until about ten years ago."

Nate opened a window on his laptop, revealing several images to his wife and friend.

"When he was killed by an IRA car bomb while on vacation," Nate paused, "With his family."

The pictures had been emailed to him by Sully. They had been dug up by one of Sully's many contacts from old police reports in Ireland. The pictures showed the warped and charred remains of the car, the burnt ground encircling the blast area, the yellow police tape. The graphic nature of the scene was amplified by the presence of two body bags off to one side.

"Apparently," Nate sighed, "He was out for a walk with his wife and three year old daughter when the blast went off. It wasn't meant for him, just a parked car they were walking by. The police believe cellular interference is what set off the explosive."

There was a moment of tense silence amongst the trio.

"Turns out," Nate continued solemnly, "It was the university calling, hoping he could return a day early. His wife and girl were killed immediately. I guess Ben was a tough SOB, held on for five days in a local hospital."

As Nate finished, Elena found herself transfixed by the photos on Nate's laptop, the two body bags, the ambulance, the gurney next to the charred carcass of the automobile. She thought about the little girl, how it would feel if it were Juliet. And then, for just a moment, Elena found herself feeling sorry for Ben.

"Well that'd be enough to drive anyone crazy right?" Reese piped in, "But anything, uh, post-death? How he's walking around now, or who this guy he's working for is?"

"Ben's boss, whoever this Henry Reimer is," Nate replied, "There's nothing. Of course, there are plenty of people with that name, but that's exactly the problem. There's no one that stands out, no one with any kind of connection, or history, or anything that would make him more than another name in the phonebook. And as far as walking away from a car bomb after being declared dead, there are no real leads, but there are stories. Like a ghost, he's popped up around various countries over the years."

"Well hell," Reese grunted, "So what do you do when you're being hunted by both a figurative and a literal ghost?"

Unfortunately, nobody had any good answers to that question.

A short time later, Nate and Elena were alone in their hotel room. Juliet had been laid down in her crib, and was sleeping peacefully, giving the couple a quiet moment together. Elena was taking a well-deserved shower as Nate stood in front of the mirror, running the straight razor over his stubbly chin.

"Back in Miami," Elena called out over the shower, "That, that Russian," she paused, not wanting to recall the situation, "He said that Henry Reimer remembered you, right?"

"Yeah," she heard Nate reply simply.

"So there's a connection there right? Some connection to your past, you sure you don't know what it is?"

"No."

Elena recognized the blankness in his tone, the almost absent minded response. Nate was lost in his own head, digging for that same answer. But they both knew how dangerous his old life had been. She sighed quietly as she realized that that connection was buried in a laundry list of enemies and close encounters.

"I'm scared Elena," Nate spoke weakly.

Elena stopped. She had seen Nate scared many times. Seen fear in his eyes more than anyone else. She had to comfort him when nightmares kept him up at night. She may have been the only one he's ever truly dropped his macho façade around. But to hear him admit it, openly verbalize being afraid, was a rare thing even for her.

She turned the silver lever, the shower head cutting off the water. Silent for a moment as she stepped out of the shower, her eyes landed on Nate as she reached for one of the towels, wrapping it around her midsection. He stood over the sink, his hands resting on the counter top, his solemn gaze locked with his reflection in the mirror.

"Nate," Elena started.

"I don't know who these people are," Nate interrupted, "And the fact that they could represent any number of people from my past scares the hell out of me."

Elena's eyes traced the scars that lined his body as she stepped up next to him. A doctor had once told them that approximately a quarter of his body was scar damaged. An entire life of danger was mapped out on Nate's skin, a biography of close calls. As Nate turned to face her, she felt his hand trace along her side, a shiver running up her spine as his fingers traced her own scars, the physical remnants of her own brush with death. Reminders of mistakes they didn't want to relive.

"We'll be okay Nate," Elena reassured him, slipping her arms around his waist; "David's got his friend in the Marshal's service looking into this too, maybe he'll find something we didn't."

Nate leaned in close to his wife, taking a deep breath as his forehead rested lightly against hers. He didn't even want to think of a response. He just wanted to appreciate their shared embrace.

"_We came here just to buy ourselves time,"_ Nate thought, _"Time to figure out what we're up against, and maybe form a plan to stop all of this. But that time isn't helping."_

"Every fiber of my being says 'Let's just leave'," Nate whispered, breaking the silence between them. Elena took a step back, looking Nate in the eye. "When the dig is done, we should take Juliet and run."

"I just want to disappear, make it so they can never find us," Nate continued, a modicum of confidence returning to his voice, "But running won't fix anything."

Nate ran his fingers through Elena's hair, pulling her in for a brief kiss. He took a deep breath, admiring how clean Elena smelled.

"If we ever want a normal life for us, for Juliet," Nate paused, the conviction in his voice strengthening, "We can't spend it running, hiding. Whatever it takes, I've got to stop this, to end it before either of you get hurt."

"Let's just take this all one day at time," Elena replied, holding Nate tight, "C'mon," she continued, taking Nate's hand, "Let's try to get some sleep."

She began to lead her husband out of the bathroom, but paused when he didn't follow her.

"Go on ahead," Nate spoke, "I've got to finish up in here."

Elena nodded, closing the door as she stepped out of the bathroom. Almost as soon as the door closed, Nate's face became deadly serious. After thinking silently for a moment, he retrieved his cell phone from the countertop, and began typing a quick text to David.

_I've got a plan. This will all end when the dig is over, but I need your help._

Nate stood in silence, taking a deep breath before typing out another text.

_And please don't tell Elena._

The next morning, the trio arrived slightly late to the dig. David had spent the earlier hours of the morning pleading with Nate and Elena to take Juliet to the dig's contracted daycare, wanting to tag along to the dig, and by the time they acquiesced, they were running a little late. Nate had made a quick phone call to late Gabriel know ahead of time, so the group had already started the day's work without them. As Nate went off to join his fellow students, David stayed behind with Elena, grabbing the camera out of the trunk.

"You know how to use that thing?" Elena joked as she looked at Reese, who was glancing over the various buttons on the camera.

"Aw c'mon, give me some credit Blondie," David smiled, "I'm more than just a pretty face."

Elena rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she gave a small smile. "Whatever you say Fabio."

"Now which one's the record button?"

Elena turned to look at David, a disbelieving smile on her face. "Shut up," she chuckled.

"I'm serious," he insisted, his voice a complete deadpan, "I had this same problem with my laptop last week. I called tech support and everything, but for the life of me I couldn't find the _any_ key."

Elena paused, resting her hand on her forehead momentarily. "Not dignifying that," she replied as she shook her head, trying not to laugh.

As Elena and David began filming some of the workers in the dig, Nate made his way through the site, trying to catch up to his group. He spotted a group of students gathered around one of the small dug out pits, and as he approached, tried to see if he could find Chase or Gabe in the crowd. He noticed Gabe first, standing slightly off to the side, talking on a cell phone. As he walked up to join his friend, he saw Chase standing a short distance away, talking seriously with a business man. At least, that's what he looked like. The only kind of person he had ever known to show up to archaeological sites in expensive three piece suits were rich business types.

"_Certainly wasn't here yesterday,"_ Nate thought to himself.

Nate walked over to Gabriel, who was just ending his phone call. "Morning Nathan," Gabe welcomed, "Nice of you to join us."

The tonal jab at his tardiness was not lost on Nate, "Sorry about that Finch, won't happen again." Finch began to turn towards the group of students, but Nate caught his attention, "Just out of curiosity," Nate started, raising his hand to point in Chases' direction, "Who the blonde guy is talking to Chase?"

Gabe squinted as he looked over at the pair, who were still conversing with one another, "I'm not entirely sure," he replied, racking his brain for an answer, "He just showed up this morning, I believe he's one of the foundation's big investors."

"Well he definitely stands out like a sore thumb," Nate smirked as the duo turned their attention back where it belonged.

"Alright," Elena said as David followed close behind, camera in hand, "I got the majority of my interviewing done yesterday, but we should get a few video conversations to round everything out."

"Sounds good to me," David replied, pulling a black beanie over his head, tucking strands of hair under it. "Just tell me where to point the lens."

"Actually, just wait here a minute," Elena replied as she spotted Chase parting ways with a man in a three piece suit, "I'm going to speak with Dr. Chase for a moment."

David nodded in understanding as Elena walked off. He stood there for a few moments, watching as the two women conversed with each other.

"_Really wish I had learned to read lips,"_ David thought as he looked on, wondering how long the two were going to talk. He was able to pick up the gist of the conversation by watching their body language, as Elena explained what she was hoping to accomplish, and if there were any important area to focus on.

"_Something about her seems familiar,"_ Reese thought as he looked at Chase.

At that moment, the pair looked in his direction, and he could've sworn he saw a look of recognition on Chase' face.

"Oh no," David grimaced internally, watching as Chase' speech body language became more heated. _"Oh no."_

David frowned slightly, recognizing that type of reaction as he watched Elena's body language become confused, then defensive, then reassuring, trying to calm Chase down with little success.

"_Oh God no,"_ David thought as Chase began to move his way, _"No no no."_

Chase stormed closer to him, ignoring Elena's attempts to stop her.

"_No no no no no fuc-"_

As soon as she came within reach, Chase decked Reese in the face, causing him to stumble back as her fist collided with his cheekbone

"Oww, son of a bitch!" David exclaimed, holding his left hand to his face. Elena did her best to restrain Chase as she tried to swing again.

"You're a real piece of work you know!" Chase shouted, trying to kick at him as Elena held her back, "You bastard!"

"Call that kettle black why don't you?" Reese retorted, ignoring the people who were taking notice of the altercation, "The hell's your problem?"

"Are you serious!?" Chase returned, "I don't know how you talked your way in here, but if you think you can come in to my dig after conning my grandfather…!"

"Wait, what?" Elena and Reese spouted in unison. Reese backed up a step as Elena turned to face him, a demand for an explanation written on her face. David assumed that this was what was going to happen. He had seen reactions like this before, the few times that people from old jobs. But he had no idea what specific job Chase was angry about.

"Yeah, when my grandfather was looking for Cibola years ago, in came your _friend_ here," Chase explained, "He had gathered every cent that he had in his search, and when he realized it wasn't enough, he started looking for investors. Unfortunately, no archaeological institute wanted to back his research."

"When the hell was that, almost twenty years ago?" David griped, his anger at being punched in the face not helping his judgment in the scenario.

"Doesn't change the fact that you fed my grandfather some bullshit investment scheme," Chase replied, "Then stole all his money the first chance you got!"

"Hey, he came to me!" David shot back, "And I never stole nothing from nobody, he gave that money to me!"

Before the confrontation got any worse, or gathered any more attention that the small group that had already amassed, Elena stepped between the pair, asking Chase to calm down as she guided Reese away from all the negative attention he was receiving. She tried not to feel embarrassed as the onlookers silently judged her, or at least so it felt, for "taking the side" of the accused criminal. After everyone had separated, Elena stood in silence, waiting for David to calm down.

"You know," Elena sighed, "I'd slap you if I didn't think you'd have another temper tantrum. That was uncalled for. And do you want to tell me what the hell all of that was about?"

"I was a different guy back then," David sighed, wishing he hadn't let his anger get the better of him and make the situation worse, "I started out just conning criminals, people that needed to be taken down a peg you know. But as I got better at it, and my lot in life got worse, I guess I stopped being as selective. Didn't notice the harm I was doing until it hit real close to home. That's about the time I left Harlan."

Elena nodded, trying her best to be understanding. She had known what David used to do, like Nate, he had been a thief. But she had just never seen a repercussion that seemed so personal before.

"Alright, it's okay," Elena replied, "You should probably get out of here though. Could you just pick up Juliet and watch her back at the hotel?"

David gave a submissive nod, "Sure thing Blondie," he smiled weakly, taking the keys to the rental car before he left.

As the students began to separate into smaller groups, the man in the suit made his way into the crowd, approaching Professor Finch.

"Excuse me, uh, Gabriel Finch?" the blonde man asked, extending his hand to the bespectacled academic, "This learning opportunity was your idea, right?" he asked, pointing at the dispersing students.

"Yes, it was," Finch replied, his brow scrunching as he attempted to identify the man, slowly accepting the handshake, "This is an old associate of mine, Nathan."

"Nice to meet you," the man in the suit replied, shaking Nate's hand as Nate turned to face them. Realizing that both men were wearing expressions of attempted recollection, he continued, "Sorry where are my manners? John Church, I'm helping fund this project."

"I didn't expect any investor visits while we were here Mr. Church," Finch admitted, "But you're free to see the lecture we're doing right now."

"Don't mind if I do," the blonde man replied, "It was a bit of a last minute decision to come here, but I like to keep a close eye on an investment. And I have to ask, do we have any kind of security concerns here?"

"No, why do you ask?" Finch inquired.

The man in the suit turned his attention to Nate, "I thought I recognized you from a magazine article I had read a while back. You're Nathan _Drake_ right, the security consultant?"

Nate was slightly taken aback. He had taken a break when Juliet was born, but his post treasure hunting career had become fairly successful. Even so, he wasn't used to being recognized for his work.

"Yeah, but not here as a consultant," Nate replied, guiding the conversation away from the group so that they wouldn't disturb the lecture, "I'm actually here as a student."

"Oh really?" the man in the suit replied, with Gabe dismissing himself from the conversation to take a phone call, "So, I hate to ask, but how does all this compare to your old work?"

Nate hesitated for a moment, "It's actually night and day," he explained, "There's so much precision and attention to detail at a dig like this, where every little thing gets recorded. Back in the old days, there'd be days where I'd practically stumble on-"

Then, as Nate took another step, the ground creaked beneath his weight, quickly collapsing in a hole under him. He dropped swiftly down into the hole, smacking his forehead into the edge before disappearing from sight. The man in the suit stood silently for a moment, sharing the shock of several onlookers.

"Ow," Nate voice echoed weakly.

Across town, David had just picked up Juliet from the daycare center. As he strapped her into her car seat, he noticed her staring at the black eye he had developed under his left eye.

"Yeah, I know Dimples," Reese smirked, "Uncle David got what was coming to him."

A haunting voice broke the silence, "Not everything he had coming I think."

David spun on his heels, his eyes landing on Benjamin Edwards, who stood several feet away in the empty parking lot, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. David's face became deadly serious as he closed the car door with one hand, his other slowly coming to rest on the 1911 at his belt.

"That's a nice shiner," Ben smiled, taking a long pull from his cigarette, "Taking care of kids really that rough on you?"

David drew his pistol as a reply, his arm by side, the gun pointed at the ground. "Don't know how you found us Chuckles, but you've got one chance to go back where you came from."

"That kind of talk isn't necessary Mr. Reese," Ben smiled, putting his cigarette out in his hand.

"Well say I think it is," Reese growled, raising his gun as he cocked the hammer.

"Then at least you're making the day interesting," Ben grinned menacingly.

Before David could react, two large thugs grabbed him from behind, forcing him to drop his gun as they held back his arms. They pulled David away from the car as Ben approached, looking at Juliet through the window, who met his gaze through the glass with curious eyes.

"You stay away from her you son of a bitch!"

David's angry words fell on deaf ears as Ben looked down at Juliet, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. He looked as though he had completely forgotten what he was there for as he stared sadly, almost longingly, down at Nate and Elena's little girl.

"What?" David called out, "She remind you of Abigail?"

The words snapped Ben out of his trance, his mind struggling as he processed them, broken, painful, and all but forgotten memories resurfacing.

"Abigail?" Ben whimpered, his voice barely audible. His eyes twitched, a look of physical pain dancing across his face as he fought against the memories.

David took advantage of the momentary distraction, flipping one of the thugs over his shoulder, wrenching his arm free from the second as he turned to kick the man in the chest. But before he could continue, Ben ran into him like a freight train, tackling him to the ground before clasping both hands to David's throat.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME?!" Ben erupted, his black eyes brimming with hate, "ABOUT MY LIFE?!"

David gasped for air, "More than I'd like, and not enough to make me feel bad for you," he cracked, pulling a combat knife from his waistband.

He jammed the blade into Ben's bicep, eliciting a large scream as he pulled himself free; smashing the elbow of Ben's other arm backwards in the process. David quickly dove for his gun, and pulled the trigger as Ben came lunging after him. Ben dropped to the ground with a large thud, blood trickling from his hair. As the two men came in for a counter attack, David managed to shoot one in the leg before the other disarmed him. They exchanged skilled and efficient blows, with Reese finally able to land a kick to the back of the man's knee, quickly following up by grabbing the man's hair, slamming him headfirst into the ground. Before he could finish the pair off, he felt a blow to his side that took him off the ground, slamming him into the side of his car.

"That was rude Mr. Reese," Ben growled, massaging the side of his head, "I liked this shirt."

David lay flabbergasted, pulling himself up to lean against the car. He was certain he'd shot him in the head. It was possible that he had grazed him, but as he saw Ben reach into his coat pocket, he realized that even his arms were okay. Ben pulled out his cell phone, pressing speed dial before holding it to his ear.

"Yes sir," Ben spoke into the phone, "I've got him right here."

Ben crouched down next to David, a condescending grin on as he held the phone to David's ear.

"Listen closely Mr. Reese," a calm, articulate voice said, "You have an important decision to make."

**So who else was super excited by the trailer for Uncharted 4? I knew that it would be a story of Nate coming out of retirement! I called it! I mean come on, even if things were fine between him and Elena, it would have just spat in the face of his character arc in Drake's Deception if he just kept in the game like nothing happened. On that note though, I don't plan on attempting some weird convoluted retcon that would allow my story to exist between Uncharted 3 and 4 or after it. No matter where the official story goes, my story will stay as my own version of the post-U3 universe.**


	11. Chapter 11

He was going to have several bruises, possibly a cracked rib, and one hell of a head ache, but all in all, he was going to be okay. At least he hoped so. Nate groaned as he raised himself off the floor, coming to a seated position. He rubbed his head as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He cursed under his breath as he came to his feet, looking up as he heard voices call out.

"Nate!" a voice called, emanating from the one source of light above him, the hole he had fallen through, "Nate are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Nate grunted in reply, "I broke the fall with my face."

Stretching his aches and pains, Nate felt a satisfying pop in several of his joints as he took in the dark space that surrounded him. It was difficult to tell how large, or how small, it was. The darkness that enveloped him made it difficult to determine if it was even a man-made structure, or just an empty cavern.

"Hey!" Nate called out to the hole above him, "Anybody got a flashlight?"

He could hear the chatter above him as people clambered to find a light to give him. As he waited, he wondered how long it would take word to reach Elena of what happened. He rubbed the bump on his forehead, certain that somebody had to be looking for her. But there was no telling where she was in the site, or what she may be busy with.

Moments later, a voice called his attention, and a small toolkit dropped into the space a few feet from him. He unrolled the canvas bag, removing a bent head flashlight from one of the pouches, clipping it to his belt as he depresses the button on its side, illuminating the chamber in front of him. He ran his fingers over the various pouches, taking inventory of what had been given to him. He heard one of the pouches crackle, opening it to reveal a radio and earpiece.

"Nate can you hear me?" Gabe's voice crackled through the earpiece. Nate clasped the radio to his hip, inserting the small bud into his ear.

"Yeah, I'm here," Nate grumbled into the mike, "Judging from the bag, I'm guessing you guys would like me to do a little scouting."

"We've got some people looking for rappelling gear," Gabe replied, "If you're up to it, some of the staff were hoping that you'd see if there's anything worth looking into down there."

"Sure, why not. You know, when I said I used to stumble upon these things, I meant it as a figure of speech."

Across the camp, the man in the suit made his way through all the workers, his purposeful walk causing all to assume he belonged there. He eyed his goal a short distance away, a discrete tent on the edge of camp. Along the way, he directing a select few to the area Nate had fallen, holding up his ruse that he had dismissed himself from the situation to find help. He had almost arrived at the tent when Elena came around a corner, bumping into him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," they both said in unison as Elena dropped the notepad and pencil that she was carrying.

"Oh, it's my fault," the blonde man replied, picking the notebook up off the ground. "I shouldn't have been walking so fast."

As he handed the notebook over, a quick look of recognition glanced over his face, "I'm John Church by the way," he lied.

"Elena Fisher-Drake," Elena replied, extending her hand in greeting.

"Nathan Drake's wife?" he replied, shaking her hand absentmindedly, "I'm glad I found you, there was an accident on the other side of the site."

He explained what happened, reassuring her that, at least according to Nate's own declarations, he was okay. He directed her where to go, and she thanked him for letting her know as they parted ways. As she disappeared around the corner, the man's faux concern gave way to a cold, stone faced demeanor before he turned back towards the tent that had been his original goal. He pushed the flap aside, his gaze falling upon Benjamin Edwards as he stepped inside. The Irishman sat quietly in a folding canvas chair as a quiet looking worker looked him over. Ben's eyes traveled up to meet his new guest, narrowing slightly as the two made eye contact.

"Mr. Reimer," Ben greeted seriously.

"So what happened?"

David Reese was weighing his options. He sat quietly in the rental car, thinking about what had transpired. He went through what the voice on the phone had said, unfortunately unrecognizable behind a voice modulator.

Remembering the plan what Nate had asked of him the night before, to the weapons he had hidden in the trunk, and to the seemingly inescapable threat that had already followed them across continents. The desire for new information passed through his mind, hoping that it would illuminate the best choice. A small cooing noise broke the silence, and his eyes made contact with Juliet in the rear view mirror, who was sitting peacefully in her car seat.

"Yeah, I know, I know," David sighed, "It shouldn't be a choice at all."

Just as he was about to start the car, his cell phone rang. Retrieving it from the cup holder, David pressed the phone to his ear.

"What've you got for me Tim?" he asked hopefully.

"You guys are not going to believe this," Nate spoke into the radio, slightly slack jawed. His shoes scraped on the stone floor as he took in his surroundings. Holding the mike close, he spoke again, "I think I'm in some kind of records chamber."

"A records chamber?" Gabe's voice crackled into the earpiece.

"Well I wouldn't call it a library," Nate commented, removing the flashlight from his belt to examine a wall of rickety wooden shelves ahead of him. "But yeah, there's a good assortment of books and papers down here."

Nate ran his fingers over the shelves, feeling the layers of dirt and dust as he eyed the aging yellow pages.

"Several hundred years old at least," he narrated absentmindedly, engrossed in his findings.

"Nate?" Elena's voice came in, breaking his almost trance like state. "Nate, are you okay?"

"Just a little banged up, but I'm fine," Nate's voice returned as Elena and the others listened on the surface. "You should see this stuff Elena," his voice crackled over the speaker as Elena held the radio close, "It's remarkable."

Before he could continue, a wooden chest on the opposite side of the room caught his eye. The voice of one of the workers crackled into his earpiece, saying something about having found some rappelling gear, but Nate wasn't listening. The chest stood a little over a foot tall, ornately carved wooden sides begging for closer examination. A smile spread across Nate's face as his eyes came within a few inches of the decorative carvings. He barely heard the dull thud of a rope hit the ground as the others prepared to enter the space. The lid of the chest was similarly decorated, as well as adorned with a clear circular crystal seal. The pads of his fingers ran over the seal, his attention finally diverted by the light touch of Elena's hand on his shoulder.

"Nate, this is _amazing_," Elena spoke as Nate turned to face her. As he stood, her eyes landed on the decorative chest, "Any idea who _this_ belonged to?"

"Tough to say," Nate replied, eyeing the archaeologists who were making their way into the chamber, "The writing is centuries old, but I'm having trouble placing it."

Nate grabbed Elena by the waist, shifting themselves to the side as one of the workers made their way over to the chest.

"Besides, I don't actually _work_ here," he smirked, "So I think that I should leave this to the pros."

As the dig professionals began measuring and documenting every detail, Nate and Elena made their way out of the chamber, reassured by one of the workers that they would be allowed a closer look at the find once everything was recorded and accounted for.

"Congratulations," Henry told Nate, inviting him into 'John Church's' private tent, "You weren't kidding when you said you'd stumble upon a good find."

"Yeah, but usually that's just a metaphor," Nate smiled, running his hand through his hair, "I just wish I could attribute that find to more than just dumb luck."

Nate only half listened as the conversation continued, his mind remaining focused on the wooden chest.

"Hey, success is success," Henry asserted, retrieving a bottle of high end bourbon from a foot locker, along with two glasses, "Doesn't matter how you got there. Hell, the guy who invented Penicillin did so by accident."

"I suppose I've got to take what I can get," Nate returned, still thinking about the symbols that adorned the chest, running through all the symbols and languages he knew in his head.

"To success," Henry interrupted his train of thought, holding out a glass of bourbon to Nate. Nate hesitated, eyeing the bottle on the table. It was a $200 bottle, and one Nate knew to be incredibly good.

"Thanks," Nate replied, giving a declining little wave, "But…" he fished into his pocket, retrieving a small plastic chip.

"My apologies," Henry nodded in understanding, withdrawing the drink, "If you don't mind, how long's it been?"

"No problem," Nate replied, his attention once again beginning to wander back to his find, old habits hoping for some significance to it, "It's been about twenty months."

"What changed things for you?"

"Found out my wife and I were going to be parents," Nate responded with no shortage of pride.

"Congratulations, I've actually got a son of my own."

Nate began to answer, but was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. He excused himself as he retrieved the phone from his pocket.

_Not safe._

Nate's brow furrowed slightly as he looked at David's text. It wasn't much to go on, but he started thinking about how what they should do.

"So what's your daughter's name?" Henry interjected, derailing Nate's train of thought. Nate's eyes snapped up, narrowing in suspicion as Henry took a calm drink of his bourbon.

"I, uh," Nate hesitated, "Never told you I had a daughter."

"Oh," Henry replied nonchalantly, "Must've heard from someone else."

Nate paused momentarily, not able to shake the suspicious feeling that was nagging him. His phone buzzed again.

"So tell me about them," Henry replied. If he had been caught in a slip up, he wasn't acting like it, "Your wife and daughter."

"What would you like to know?" Nate replied.

"I want to know," Henry replied, a sudden coldness in his voice, "If they deserve to share your fate."

Outside, Abraham made his way into the site, false identification giving him easy passage. He scanned the crowd methodically, trying to get his bearings. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Elena, talking animatedly with a brunette he didn't recognize. His orders didn't concern her though, at least not yet. So he turned away from her, taking a deep breath as he made his way into the camp.

"What did you say?" Nate asked, breaking the tense silence that had come over them.

Henry retained a detached coldness in his silvery blue eyes, taking a seat in a canvas chair. "Well I suppose I should properly introduce myself. Henry Reimer."

Nate's heart pounded, his knuckles turning white as he reached back to grasp his gun. But his hand met nothing but air, his waistband empty. As the realization dawned on him, Henry revealed Nate's gun in his hand, removing the magazine and emptying the chamber, a look of disappointment in his eyes.

"Unfortunately, the real John Church is dead in a hotel. Though I'm sure would be happy with his investment in this dig."

Henry motioned toward the canvas chair opposite from him, but Nate continued to stand in defiance.

"What do you want?" Nate fumed.

"Honestly I haven't decided," Henry replied coldly, "I suppose it's up to you really. If you can give me a good reason not to kill you right here and now."

The anger in Nate's eyes wavered, fear momentarily showing through.

"Now _sit down_," Henry ordered, "And help me make a good decision."

Nate stood for a moment longer, but acquiesced, "So I hear you want my help," Nate spoke quietly, "At least so your Russian friend told me."

Henry gave an almost imperceptible smile, but said nothing.

"Well, if you're looking for a _security consultant_, my hours are from ten to six every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday," Nate cracked, hiding his apprehension as best he could manage, "Appointments are preferred, but walk-ins are accepted on a case by case basis."

"Cute," Henry replied, a confident quarter smile on his face, "But that's not why I'm here."

"Well then how can I help you sir?" Nate replied sarcastically. He couldn't tell what was stronger at the moment, his anger or his fear.

Henry chuckled, "Well first you're going to tell me exactly what you found down there," he pointed outside, in the direction of the hole, "And if you think it's valuable."

"Why?" Nate countered, though his mind was already returning to work on the issue.

"Well to be honest, my men lied when they said we wanted your help with something valuable," Henry admitted plainly, "I hoped it might pique your interest."

"And that worked out well for you," Nate retorted.

"But now you've piqued _my_ interest," Henry continued, "Because I'm in the middle of a war, and you _were_ a mere side project to me. I had intended nothing more than to take you out back and put your worthless ass down like Old Yeller, as a nice morale boost for my men."

Nate was taken aback, unsure of how to respond.

"But to fight a war you need resources," Henry stated matter-of-factly, "And you just stumbled onto the one thing that just might make you more useful to me alive."

"So that's it?" Nate managed a meager chuckle of his own, his best attempt to appear more confident, "After all that, you're just the millionth asshole to give me the 'die now, or help me, and die later' deal?"

Henry just snickered in reply.

"Why the fuck should I help you?" Nate spat.

"Because you killed someone very important to me. You're going to help me because it's your fault my organization now stands decimated, fighting to survive. And because it's not only yourself you should be worried about."

There was a tense moment of silence between them, Nate's mind racing over the details of the box.

"So I'll ask again," Henry continued, his voice filled with calm menace, "Do your wife and daughter deserve to share your fate?"

Outside, Elena was still talking to Chase. Elena had gotten all the journalistic coverage she needed done, so now they were just chatting. Chase was sharing a story from her childhood, but her expression turned sour in a moment. Confused, Elena turned to see David come up behind her, a look of apprehension on his face. He had Juliet in a harness on his back, looking around in wonder at her new surroundings, her head adorned with a set of earmuffs and David's black ski cap.

"What're you doing back here?" Chase asked, hostility evident in her voice.

"We're blown," David whispered in Elena's ear, ignoring Chase. He took Elena's hand in an attempt to lead her away, but she didn't budge. He turned back to face her, and was met with an expectant gaze.

"We've got to go," David insisted, staying as calm as he could, "It's not safe."

"What're you talking about?" Chase asked.

"David, what's going on?" Elena asked concernedly, sensing the seriousness in his voice.

"They found us," he replied, his tone remaining subdued so as not to attract attention, "We need to leave _now_."

Henry picked up Nate's gun, sliding the magazine back in place. He looked expectantly at Nate.

"Would you like to reconsider that drink?" Henry deadpanned, chambering a round in the pistol.

"Leave?" Chase inquired, confused by the tension between her two companions, "What's going on?"

"It's uh, it's complicated," David replied, eyes scanning the crowd, "Blonde guy, nice suit, where is he? I saw him here earlier."

"Mr. Church?" Chase replied, "He's talking with Nate."

"Son of a-" David sighed, "We've got to go, right now."

David returned to leading Elena through the crowd, Chase not far behind, refusing to be left hanging. As he scanned the crowd, he saw them intermittently, people who didn't feel right. His gut told him they were bad news.

Inside the tent, Nate broke the silence after several moments. A pair of men had entered the tent, standing guard behind him.

"The City of the Caesars," he mumbled, the revelation dawning on him.

"The what?"

"The City of the Caesars," Nate repeated, "The Wandering City, or Trapananda, it's a lost Patagonian city, rumored to have been hidden deep within the Andes, built by Patagonian giants."

"And this all means what?" Henry asked impatiently.

"The legends say that it only appears at certain times, and that those who stumble upon it by accident will forget. But it was said to have been built between two mountains, one of gold, and one of diamonds."

Henry sat in silence for a moment; pondering the story he had been told. His eyes darted between Nate and the two men.

"Go get the chest," Henry ordered one of the men; "We're leaving."

The man nodded, and turned to leave. But as he made his way through the tent flap, a boot connected with his chest, sending him tumbling back inside. Nate and Henry both jumped in surprise as Abraham burst into the tent, quickly blocking a punch from the second henchman. As Abraham took on both guards with great skill, Nate kicked the edge table in front of him, slamming it into Henry's stomach. Henry dropped the pistol to the floor, and Nate quickly dove after it.

Upon raising the weapon to meet his adversary, however, he saw that Henry had already disappeared out the back of the tent. Nate began to make his way after him, but halted as he felt Abraham's hand grip down hard on his shoulder, pulling him the other way. Nate looked back as he was dragged out of the tent, his eyes landing on the two effortlessly incapacitated henchmen on the ground.

David Reese eyed the suspicious figures that littered the crowd, trying to avoid notice. Several of the men were becoming increasingly active, likely receiving orders via earpieces.

"I'll go find Nate," he reassured, Elena and Chase in tow, "But we've got to get you and Juliet outta here."

"David, I hate to play twenty questions," Elena asserted, "So can you fill me in on all the details?"

"That blonde guy, _he's_ Henry Reimer," David nodded, slowly unbuckling Juliet's harness. Two of the agents began eyeing them suspiciously. "I don't know how, but they followed us here."

"Excuse me," Chase interjected, "But what the hell is going on?"

David turned to look at her. He'd forgotten she was there. "You've got to start getting these people out of here," he replied, handing off Juliet, harness and all to Elena. "We're all in danger."

"The hell are you talking about?" Chase responded irately. Elena removed Juliet from the harness, sitting it discreetly with several bags as she held her daughter close, wondering why she in fact had _two_ sets of earmuffs on.

"You're a friend of Nate's right?" David asked Chase, "You can come with us if you want, but we need to keep moving."

"Oh my God," Chase replied with disbelief. David noticed the men pushing their way towards them, "If this is some kind of con…"

Before anyone could reply, everyone jumped at the sound of a distant gunshot. David's gaze quickly snapped back to the approaching agent, who pulled a large pistol.

"DUCK!" David shouted, fast drawing as he put himself in front of Elena. Raising his weapon with greater speed, David shot the man square in the chest, sending the whole site from confusion into full-fledged panic.

"ARE YOU COMING OR NOT?" Reese shouted at Chase, "EITHER WAY WE ARE LEAVING _NOW_!"

The trio made their way through the site, Elena suddenly understanding why Juliet's ears were so well covered.

Nate dropped down into a pit right behind Abraham, narrowly avoiding several more shots. His minded quickly went to Elena, praying she was safe. Nate drew his PPK, looking over the edge of the pit, but Abraham quickly pulled him back down as a shot tore through the tent behind them.

"Get off me!" Nate shouted, pulling himself out of Abraham's grip, baffled by his new 'associate's' sudden interference, "Who the hell are you anyway?"

Abraham looked at Nate, eying the pistol that was being held low at his side, "The Horseman of War," he replied with calm sarcasm, pushing Nate's gun away from his abdomen, "And today I'm your guardian angel."

Looking to see if the coast was clear, Abraham jumped out of the hole, shooting an agent as he came around the corner. He swept his weapon side to side, looking for additional targets. But when he looked back into the pit, Nate was gone.

"God damn it."

Reese led the way out towards their car, Chase and Elena staying low behind him, Elena holding Juliet tight.

"Do you know how to shoot a gun?" David asked Chase.

"It's been a while, but yeah," Chase replied. David produced a snub nose revolver from his jacket pocket.

"Then be ready." He insisted, passing the weapon back to her.

They rounded a grouping of tents, the car finally in sight. But just before they reached the lot, Chase stopped.

"What about Gabe?" she asked, thinking about where he could be," We've got to find him!"

David groaned, looking back into the hysteria of the camp. "Nate's probably taking care of him," David guessed, wanting to keep the group moving.

"I'll go find them, you take care of Elena and the baby," Chase ordered, turning back to the camp.

"Wait, but-" David began.

"No time to argue!" Chase interrupted, beginning to run back into the site, "Just keep them safe!"

"Son of a bitch," David grumbled before calling out to her, "BUT YOU'VE ONLY GOT… six… bullets," he trailed of, realizing she was already out of earshot.

"ELENA!" Nate shouted, searching each tent, avoiding panicking archaeologists as he looked.

"_Please God let her be safe."_

Nate heard the shot before he saw the mercenary, practically feeling the bullet whiz by him as he instinctively ducked into a tent. Running through the weak canvas structure as bullets tore through the walls behind him, Nate dove out the back, flanking the mercenary. He aimed at the man, managing to get two shots in, hitting each of the attacker's legs before he could get another shot off.

"ELENA!" he screamed again, continuing his sweep.

As he entered one of the tents, he came across the wooden chest, obviously abandoned in the middle of its examination. The contents were organized neatly on the table, several documents, a stone talisman, and a few gold coins. Grabbing the chest, Nate quickly shoved all the contents inside, throwing the chest and lid haphazardly inside a nearby duffle bag. He darted back out of the tent, about to call out again, when a voice sang out.

_"Catch a falling star, and put it in your pocket,_

_Save it for a rainy day."_

Reese watched intently as Elena fastened Juliet into her car seat, trying to calm her cries. "Alright, let's go," he said as she finished up, making his way to the driver's side door.

"Alright," Elena stood ready for action, "You have another gun for me?"

"Huh?" David paused, momentarily confused, "No, I meant go as in _time to leave_."

"I thought you were going back for Nate?" Elena countered, her voice full of defiance.

"I am," David assured, "_After_ I get the two of you out of the country."

Nate recognized Elena's favorite lullaby when he heard it. He spun on his feet, determined to locate the man who was now taunting him with it.

"_Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket,_

_Never let it fade away."_

Nate raised his gun as the voice echoed, as if it were closing in from all sides. And then, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, a chill running down his spine as he made a slow 180 degree turn, his heart pounding as he came face to face with Ben.

"Hello Nathan," Ben grinned, standing about twenty five feet away. But before he could utter another word, a shot rang through the air, and he stood stunned as he felt the impact dead center in his chest. His eyes wandered down, settling on the crimson liquid that was quickly coating his white button up. And just as the reverberations of the gunshot died down, Ben tipped backwards, landing with a resounding thud as Nate looked on, wisps of smoke trailing from his gun barrel.

Nate stood still for a moment, drawing long, shuddering breaths. His adrenaline flowed, his pulse pounded, and his heart boiled with rage as he stared at the motionless form in front of him. His hands started to shake as he lowered his weapon, remembering what had happened in Miami. He death gripped his pistol, knuckles turning white, fuming as he thought about that monster in his house. He raised his gun again as he remembered what that man did.

"PUT YOUR HANDS ON MY WIFE!?" he screamed, cocking the hammer on his gun, his eyes watering, "THREATEN MY DAUGHTER?!"

His breath shuddered as his hands shook, finger against the trigger. He stood there for a moment, gritted teeth and bated breath, before finally lowering his weapon. He turned and walked away, trying to regain his composure as he kept an eye out for other men. Things were quiet, for the moment, but he kept his guard up. But then, Nate froze in his tracks as a voice broke the silence.

"I'm impressed Nathan."

Nate's heart skipped a beat, and he spun as fast as he could; only to be grasped by the throat, practically choke slammed into the dirt. As the daze of impact wore off, his breath stopped short as he looked at a wild eyed Ben kneeling over him, hand still at his throat.

"Didn't think you'd actually shoot me," Ben grinned maliciously.

Reese spun around, getting himself between Elena and the site, "Whoa, whoa, whoa Blondie, stop!"

"Don't Blondie me David, we can't just leave Nate!" Elena shouted, trying to move around him.

"Elena, _Elena_! I promise I'll come back for him," Reese insisted, "But he asked me to get y'all out, to make sure _both_ of you were safe if things went bad!"

He pointed at a crying Juliet to emphasize her presence. They stood silently for a moment, a look of understanding coming over Elena. But just as soon as it arrived, it was gone, defiant determination in her eyes.

"No," she spoke, snatching David's gun from his hand, "I won't just be pushed aside while my husband's life is in danger."

And with that, she pushed him aside.

"Damn it Blondie," David sighed as she began to pass him by. Unsure of what else to do, he grabbed her in a choke hold, wrapping his arm around her neck. He did his best to keep her still as she thrashed around in surprise, not wanting to hurt her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Nate gasped for breath, Ben's grip tightening on his throat. His fingers dug into Bens hand and arm, but to no affect.

"I didn't think you were so cold blooded," Ben tormented, "Shooting an unarmed man."

Nate's hands grasped through the dirt, hoping to find his gun. But instead he found himself gripping a baseball sized rock. With all the strength he had left, he hauled off and slammed the stone into Ben's head. But the Irishman barely budged.

"Woo man Nathan, now we're having fun," Ben laughed, "But you'll have to do better than that!"

Right at that moment, the flat face of a shovel slammed full force into the back of Ben's skull with a decisive clang, causing to collapse in a heap. As Nate coughed, gasping for air, he saw Abraham standing over him; shovel in hand, a frustrated look on his face.

"Come on," he insisted, offering a hand to help Nate up, "Let's move."

He pulled Nate to his feet, but before either could say a word, a dart flew through the air, hitting Nate in the neck. He immediately started to stumble, and Abraham spotted Henry a distance off, disappearing into the tents. Abraham quickly drew his gun from his canvas jacket, firing as several mercenaries came into view. But Nate began to fall, swinging at nothing, his vision distorting. He heard voices as the world warped around him. He'd felt these affects before.

"Damn it," Abraham cursed, lifting an increasingly incoherent Nate into a fireman's carry, "Time to go."

Reese lowered Elena gently into the passenger seat, triple checking her pulse as he fastened her seatbelt. She was fine, just unconscious. Her pulse was steady, her breathing quiet. He walked around to the other side, taking a seat behind the wheel. As he closed the door, Juliet's cries filling the air, he sat quietly for a moment, weighing his options.


	12. Chapter 12

"_Where the hell could they be?"_

Chase snuck through the camp, doing her best to avoid the remaining mercenaries. She held the snub nose revolver close as she searched the camp for her friends, cursing David under her breath for giving her a gun with only six bullets.

"_My fault though,"_ she begrudgingly admitted, _"I should've at least waited long enough to see if he had any extra ammo."_

Looking through the tents, she prayed that people were getting to safety. The area had quickly become fairly empty, but where everyone had gone was a different matter entirely. She ducked into a tent as a pair of mercenaries rounded the corner, trying to avoid notice. But several bullets tearing through the khaki canvas walls told her she had failed in the regard.

"Damn it Nate, where are you?" she grumbled under her breath, ducking behind a large tool chest, "I could use your help."

One of the mercenaries burst into the tent, quickly receiving two bullets to the chest. Before Chase could make a move, the second man came through the back of the tent, grabbing her from behind. As the attacker attempted to wrestle the gun out of Chase's hands, several rounds expended into the air, tearing through the canvas walls and smacking into the dirt before one drilled right through the mercenary's boot. Calling out in pain, the man's grip loosened enough for Chase to pull herself free, swinging her arm back to club her attacker in the face with the butt of the revolver. As the man crumpled into an unconscious heap, Chase checked her weapon, cursing inwardly as she realized she only had emptied the revolver.

"Crap," she mumbled, pulling a stubby sawed-off shotgun from the fallen mercenary's back, "Maybe I -should've had that redneck jackass come with me."

She rounded a corner, calling out for Nate and Gabe, hoping they were safe. She knew that Nate could take care of himself, but Gabe? He wasn't like Nate; he wasn't made for this. She called out for him again, finally hearing a voice in reply.

"Chase!" Gabe cried out, "Help!"

She zeroed in on where his voice came from, running to find him. She cut through several tents, finding Gabe in the hands of a man she hadn't seen, a wild haired man in a dirty disheveled black suit, his hair matted with blood. The man had his back to Chase, holding Gabe by the shirt, interrogating him.

"Please, please don't kill me!" Gabe begged as he was slowly lifted off the floor, "I don't know where they went!"

"Drop him!" Chase shouted, pointing her weapon a Gabe's attacker.

The man turned his head, looking over his shoulder. Despite being unarmed, he was seemingly unimpressed by the sight of a double barrel trained on him. As he sized her up, his black, void like eyes sent chills down Chase's spine.

"Go home little girl," Ben replied sternly, turning away from her, "You're not a part of this."

Chase was taken aback by the man's chilling, confident demeanor, but held her ground. "No," she retorted, "Let my friend go." She was doing her best to sound confident, but this guy creeped the hell out of her. She could swear the air had gotten a couple degrees colder.

"Could we not do that?" Ben asked, his tone a mix of a disciplinarian and someone being mildly inconvenienced, "As exciting as it would normally be to have a beautiful woman holding a gun to me, I'm not really in the mood. And besides, it didn't work to well for the last guy."

He sighed as Chase held her ground, pausing for a moment before tossing Gabe aside like a ragdoll. Ben turned menacingly towards her, his untucked shirt soaked in blood. In a flash he had closed the distance between them, ripping the gun from her hands. He let out a guttural, animalistic yell, baring blackened, monstrous teeth as he flung Chase through the air. She fell in a heap next to Gabe, and they looked in terror at the man before them, striding powerfully toward the duo.

"Don't hurt her!" Finch uttered as confidently as he could manage, putting himself between Chase and their attacker. Ben stopped, standing over them, snarling through pitch black fangs, "You need us! We can help you with whatever you want, just please, don't hurt her!"

The rabid look on Ben's face disappeared, quickly replaced with a confident grin. He dug a finger into the hole in his shirt, small amounts of blood leaking out. Chase felt herself want to throw up as she heard the sound of him digging into flesh and bone. After a moment, he withdrew the hand, displaying an expended bullet between his index finger and thumb.

"I told you," he spoke with a returning calm, "It didn't work out to well for the last guy."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Elena yelled, delivering a harsh slap to the side of David's face. He somberly accepted the attack, knowing that he deserved it, "You had no right to… kidnap me!"

"Elena," David tried to explain, but was interrupted by another slap. He knew it wasn't going to be pretty when she woke up, but he had resigned himself to accept whatever hate she wanted to give him.

"Nate need's my help, _our_ help!" Elena continued, "But you just leave him with, God knows _who_ those people are, to take me to some _port_?"

"I'm sorry for what I did," David responded, hoping she wouldn't slap him again, "But Elena please, just make sure Juliet's safe. That's how you can help Nate."

Elena sighed, "I know," she admitted, her voice slowly sounding more hurt than angry, "I just wish he would quit, I don't know, pushing me away… running off every time something bad happens."

She sat down on the edge of the docks, David taking a seat beside her, their feet dangling over the water.

"He's not pushing you away," David replied, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "You know just as well as I do he's not that guy any more. But Juliet needs you too, and I know he'd never live it down if anything ever happened to either of you."

The pair sat in silence for a moment, Juliet watching them from her car seat, the car door open a few feet away. David took a deep breath, standing up and retrieving Juliet from the car, car seat and all, and sitting her next to her mother.

"You know," David continued, sitting back down next to Juliet, "Nate actually didn't want me coming back for him."

"What?" Elena asked, her eyes widening.

"Yeah," David nodded, "He asked me to stay with the two of you, and make sure y'all are safe. He promised he'd find you when all this was over."

"So what're you going to do?" Elena inquired, looking at him expectantly.

"Well, it's like you said," David responded, "He's my friend, and I can't abandon him. But first, I need y'all to get on that boat, and get outta here."

David stood up, helping Elena to her feet as she looked at the rusty boat at the end of the dock, two locals getting it ready. Reaching into the trunk of the rental car, he pulled out a small red drawstring bag, handing it to Elena.

"These guys will get you out of the country," David assured, "There's about twenty grand in here, along with a phone and a gun, just in case. If you need to, try to contact Sullivan for help, and find a place to lay low. I'll bring Nate back, I promise"

Elena gave a small smile, accepting the bag from David. "Thanks David," she replied, giving him a hug.

"Don't mention it Blondie," David cracked, returning the embrace.

As she watched him get into the car and drive off, Elena picked up Juliet in her car seat, praying that Nate was okay.

The sound of classical music filled the air, causing Nate to stir as it reached his ears. He blinked his eyes open, confused as he found himself lying on a small, cheap bed in a room he had never seen before.

"What the hell?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. The shoddy accommodations were in fact, not a dream, he realized as he blinked repeatedly, running his fingers through his hair. As the violin recording continued, Nate searched the room for his weapon, but found nothing. Even his pockets were empty, down to the lint. His shirt was laid across the back of a chair on this other side of the room, half dry, but still damp from sweat. Lying on the bedside table was a clean, neatly folded white t-shirt. Pulling the shirt over his head, he pulled on the door handle, surprised to find it unsecured.

Making his way into an equally plain hallway, Nate searched for a weapon, still thrown off by the music echoing through the space. As he pulled a ball point pen from a drawer, holding it in his hand like a shank, the smell of bacon reached his nose.

"_Where the hell am I?"_

He rounded the corner, holding the pen up threateningly, unsure of whom or what would greet him. He paused, uncertain of what to make of the sole occupant of the room, casually cooking at a stove top as he hummed along to the music, his back to Nate. The man stood in rumpled brown cargo pants and an untucked navy button down shirt, absorbed in the music as he filled several strips of bacon. Nate looked around the room uncertainly, noticing the contents of his wallet, his phone, sobriety chip, and his half eaten pack of gum laid out neatly on the table. In the corner of the room was the wooden chest, it's contents neatly organized. Hanging from one of the plain wooden chairs at the table, Nate spied a worn in leather shoulder holster, reminiscent of the ones he used to wear. He snuck into the small room, reaching for the pistol hanging unattended from the chair.

"I'm sorry if I was rude before," Abraham spoke casually, sliding the pieces of bacon onto two plates, each already topped with a generous helping of eggs, "I get impatient sometimes when I'm working."

He turned to face Nate, a welcoming smile on his face as he held a plate in each hand, setting them down on the table. Nate blinked, his hand half on the pistol, uncertain how to proceed.

"What the hell is going on?" Nate asked hesitantly.

Abraham raised an eyebrow, seemingly confused. "I'm…cooking you bacon and eggs," he replied innocently, as if it were obvious, "I thought you might be hungry after sweating out that toxin."

"So, what, you just abduct me and make me breakfast?" Nate asked incredulously, "At ten in the evening?"

"Well I was going to make pancakes too," Abraham replied honestly, retrieving salt and pepper from the pantry, "And when is it ever a bad time for bacon and eggs?"

Nate relinquished his grip on the pistol, intrigued by his new associate's welcoming demeanor. He watched as Abraham turned back to the stove, pausing the music on his phone.

"I'm Abraham," he continued, tipping his head in an almost imperceptible bow, "And I'm sure you've got plenty of questions."

Nate chuckled sarcastically, "Well my family's lives were threatened by a man I'd never met, a psychopath who I'd shot in the heart responded by strangling me, and before I could find my wife and make sure she was safe, I got abducted. But not, mind you, before I got shot by a hallucinogenic dart. So yeah, I'm not short on questions."

Abraham let out a sigh, taking a seat at the shoddy little table, "I'm sorry about all of that, it's not what I wanted to happen."

Nate stood in silence for a moment, "Where's my wife?" he asked plainly.

"She's with a friend of yours," Abraham assured, "The one with the, uh, surfer hair. I'm not sure where they went."

Nate let out a sigh of relief, "As long as she is out of harm's way," he replied, "You leave her out of this."

"I have no desire to endanger your family," Abraham responded, "But I can't say the same for our friend Henry."

"Who is he, Henry Reimer?"

"A man backed into a corner," Abraham answered, "And made all the more dangerous for it. He's spent years rebuilding what we thought was a dead organization, proving time and again he is not to be trifled with."

"He said I killed someone important to him." Nate spoke quietly, cautiously taking a seat. Abraham pushed a plate of bacon and eggs toward him.

"I think you know the answer to that one," Abraham replied, motioning to where Nate had been hit with the dart.

"He was one of Marlowe and Talbot's men?"

Abraham nodded, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

"Ah, crap," Nate sighed, helping himself to a slice of bacon. The pair sat in silence for a moment, eating their food, "So how do you fit into all of this?"

"As Henry said, his people are at war with mine," Abraham explained, "Our job is to keep powerful artifacts safe and out of the hands of people like Katherine Marlowe, Henry Reimer, and anyone else who would misuse them."

Nate smirked, "So now you want me to help you? Help you find the City of the Caesars and beat Henry Reimer?"

"Actually," Abraham replied, "I think that _you_ could use _my_ help."

"What the hell happened to you?" Henry Reimer asked, raising an eyebrow as Ben emptied a canteen on his head, rinsing the blood out of his hair.

"Just making new friends," Ben replied gruffly, running his hands through his curly black hair.

"I see that," Henry responded, "Is this all that's left?"

Ben eyed the small group of prisoners they had lined up on their knees in the dirt, "These are all we managed to grab," he affirmed, watching the archaeologists avoid his gaze, their eyes to the ground, "The rest are in the wind, including Nathan Drake and his…shovel wielding friend."

Ben touched a hand to the back of his head, giving an irritated growl as he felt his freshly healed scalp. Henry poured a glass of bourbon, holding it out towards Ben, who eyeballed it momentarily before snatching the bottle out of Henry's hand.

Henry let out a frustrated sigh, drinking the bourbon from the glass. Two hundred dollar bottle or not, he didn't feel like arguing about it, "And if one of _them_ is here, then there might be others. We need all hands on deck," he motioned to one of the men, who stepped off to make the call, "I don't want to take any chances."

"_One of who?"_ Chase wondered, listening intently to the conversation. She glanced sideways at Gabriel, who was sitting silently next to her. All things considered, he was holding up very well. He met her gaze out of the corner of his eye, his face calmly apprehensive behind cracked glasses lenses. _"God Nate, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"_

"Did we ever find that chest?" Henry asked the small clutch of mercenaries that surrounded them, looking at them expectantly.

"No sir," came an apprehensive reply.

Henry rubbed his brow with his thumb and forefinger, shoulders slumped faintly, "Nathan Drake is in the wind _again_, along with the chest," he spoke with calm frustration, "And he's receiving an unknown amount of help from our enemies."

The mercenaries winced at their boss's tone Henry fought back a scowl as he turned to face the small band of archaeologists, maintaining a calm expression on his face, "So, archaeologists and scholars, there was a wooden chest discovered earlier today, purported to make reference to the legendary City of the Caesars," he paused for a moment, his icy blue eyes staring daggers through his captive audience, "I want you to tell me everything, about this city, the chest, all of it. I want every photo, every note card you might have. Pray that what you've got proves useful, or my associate here," he looked at Ben, who was staring intently at the prisoners, "Well, you don't want to know."

Ben finished off the bottle of bourbon, giving a malicious grin "I am feeling kind of hungry actually."

"_Goddamn, was he mauled by a bear?"_ Reese wondered as he looked through the scope of his sniper rifle, his sights resting on Ben's muddy and blood stained form. Nestled quietly in the tree line, he scanned the site, taking stock of the situation.

"_Alright, six hostages, at least…eighteen mercenaries, not to mention Jack the Ripper and his boss."_

Reese looked on, finger next to the trigger as the archaeologists jumbled around, speaking fervently with their captors.

"_I see that squirrely professor guy, and that woman Chase, but no sign of Nate anywhere. God damn it."_

Keeping his rifle at the ready, Reese sat in silence, working out how to proceed. He tried Nate's cell phone again, but with no success.

"Damn it," he mumbled, looking back down the scope of his weapon.

"_There are too many guys to take a shot without endangering the hostages, Nate's MIA, and it looks like my best chance of finding him is…"_

Reese sighed, slinging the sniper rifle on his back, "Son of a bitch," he grumbled, unholstering his 1911 before making his way to the camp.

Henry's eyes narrowed menacingly, "This is all you have?" he asked one of the archaeologists, holding up a thin manila folder.

"Well we didn't have the chest for very long before…" the archaeologist began, but stopped as Henry's icy blue eyes stared daggers in him.

Henry flipped through the contents of the folder, skimming over the notes and glossy photographs. Taking a deep breath, he closed the folder, passing it off to one of his men.

"Alright," Henry spoke commandingly, "According to Drake, this place was supposed to be in the mountains along the border between Chile and Argentina. See if any of this can narrow that down."

The man nodded, taking the folder off into one of the tents.

"And we're only going to need Drake's friends," he continued, "So Benjamin," Ben looked up from the bourbon bottle, seemingly desperate for any remaining drops at the bottom, "Take care of the extras."

"NO, DON'T!" Chase shouted, rising to her feet before being desperately pulled back by Finch.

But it was too late. In one swift motion, Ben violently smashed the bourbon bottle on the head of one of the archaeologists before jamming the broken remains into the neck of another.

"Sorry," Ben grinned sarcastically at Chase and Finch, "But orders are orders."

Then, as he took a step towards the last two, Ben felt two small pin pricks in his back. Before he could investigate, he collapsed to the ground, convulsing spastically as Reese held down the trigger of the Taser with his right hand, gripping the collar of one of the mercenaries as a human shield with his left. Maintaining pressure on the trigger, he wrapped his right arm around the mercenary's neck, freeing his left to draw his pistol, pressing it into the merc's temple. Henry looked down at Ben, who was twitching face down in the dirt as the Taser continued to pump electricity through him.

"Can I help you Mr. Reese?" Henry raised an eyebrow, completely unimpressed.

"You can start by letting these-" Reese began, but was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. Doing his best to conceal his surprise, Reese watched as one of the remaining archaeologists slumped over on the ground.

"I'm sorry," Henry replied with an icy menace, lowering his pistol to his side, "That was rhetorical."

**I don't know why, but the idea of a character like Ben being dropped by a Taser is hilarious to me. And please, continue to read and review. I want to tell the best story I can, one that you guys will continue to want to read, so every piece of constructive criticism helps. And thank you to everyone who has favorite, followed, or even just viewed this story. Just seeing the support this story gets motivates me to keep writing.**


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